DBZ- The Borrowed Operetta
by SkittleSKS
Summary: Rebel Yell (V/B) - Vegeta's being posessed by the spirit of Billy Idol as he taunts Yamucha over Bulma. Bulma, Vegeta, and Yamucha (oh my!) pick up choral duties in this chapter!
1. Paradise by the Dashboard Light

DBZ: The Borrowed Musical

AN:  Here we go.  Another one of those "in the car" moments.  It's a bit ambitious, I know, but I don't plan on devoting myself to it unless I get more ideas.  This is my first song work, and I probably should have used script format, but I don't care for it.  If you're confused with how someone can be singing without the other noticing, well, I used standard musical rules here.  The audience can hear some parts that the other party can't.  So, on with Act I!

Disclaimers:  Don't own Dragonball/Z, or any of the characters.  Don't own "Paradise by the Dashboard Light," either. 

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"Hey babe!"  Such a familiar sound to Bulma's ears.  Even when she hated the man, she enjoyed his voice.  Yamucha brought with him a sense of normalcy, of comfort.  Granted, not the same sort of smug knowledge that everything's all right that only came from Son Goku, but a comfort nonetheless.  "Bulma?  You alive still?"  Yamucha snickered, then added "Or did the sheer masculinity of my voice finally cause you to faint?"  

"I'm up here, Yamucha.  And I'd be more likely to faint from Oolong's voice than yours, you self-flatterer!"  Yamucha laughed in response, and ascended the sparsely decorated staircase to Bulma's room, where she stood, adjusting her earrings and scarf in the mirror.  Stepping into the room, Yamucha quickly feigned a look of mock hurt before positioning himself to be in the mirror's line of sight.  Bulma laughed and turned around to give Yamucha a playful smack on the arm.  "Silly boy."

"So, why'd you call me here, Bulma?  And to your bedroom, nonetheless?  Or do I have to ask?" 

Another smack on the arm, and then she led him into the bathroom, where a damp area near the shower was slowly creeping up the wall.  "There's a leak in the pipes back here, and I'm going to have to be at work until late, so I can't fix it.  Dad and Mom are off traveling, I don't trust Vegeta near my porcelain, and the plumber said it'd take until next week before he can come out and look at it.  So, can you help?"  

Crouching down and lightly running his hand along the wall, Yamucha turned to Bulma and asked for permission to tear out the wall.  Nodding her agreement, Yamucha powered up a very small ki blast on his finger before using it to cut a hole in the wall.  Using the same ki to light the dark pipes, Yamucha smiled and looked up at Bulma.  "Yup, easily fixed.  Only take me about two hours, especially if I grab Puar and have her change into the tools I need."  

"Thanks so much, Yamucha.  I am so swamped; I can't take care of the house.  Here, here's some money for parts, a little extra for food or drinks, and I'll give you whatever you want to charge later."  Bulma then leaned down to give Yamucha a quick hug, and hustled off for her meeting.

Later that night, Bulma came home to find Yamucha descending the stairs, sweat beaded on his forehead.  He looked a bit haggard, as if he had lost an important battle with the piping minutes before.  "Where's Puar?  And what happened?"  

Sighing, Yamucha took off his soaked shirt, and flopped onto the overstuffed couch, sinking into the dark green cushions.  "Bulma?  Huh?"  Removing a pair of earplugs, Yamucha looked up at Bulma, sheepish grin intact.  

Bulma shook her head and flopped down next to the sopping desert bandit.  "Did the inanimate objects defeat you, Yamucha?"

"No, Vegeta did."  A quizzical expression prompted him to continue.  "I had ripped out the piping that was bad, and replaced it with the new pipes, but not sealed it yet.  Puar isn't feeling well, so I had to use your tools, which I left downstairs.  By the time I had found the right tools, and gone back upstairs, Vegeta had decided to take a shower.  Needless to say, the water sprayed everywhere, and destroyed what I had done before."  Bulma was trying not to laugh by this point, but it was hard not to, with Yamucha's frustrated expression.  "So, Vegeta got pissed, blasted half the pipes into fine dust, and left.  Of course, His Royal Highness couldn't be arsed to clean up after himself, so I had to clean up the bathroom, replace the pipes, and then, finally, fix the damn leak."  She couldn't help it, she was howling with laughter by now.  "Be glad we're friends, Bulma.  I sure as heck wouldn't do this for Piccolo."

Bulma wiped a tear from her eye, and leaned into Yamucha.  "It's weird to think of us as only friends now, isn't it?  I mean, it wasn't that long ago…" The strains of a song began up in the background as Bulma continued on.  "We were so silly.  And so eager, if I remember correctly."  

Yamucha laughed, and looked down at his former girlfriend, as the song swelled up.  Smiling, Yamucha began to sing.  "I remember every little thing, as if it happened only yesterday.  Parking by the lake, and there was not another car in sight.  And I never had a girl looking any better than you did, and all the kids at school, they were wishing they were me that night."  

Yamucha stood up, lost in the flashback of himself and Bulma so many years ago, in the backseat of a car.  "And now our bodies are oh so close and tight.  It never felt so good, it never felt so right.  And we're glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife. C'mon! Hold on tight! C'mon! Hold on tight! Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night, I can see paradise by the dashboard light."  Shaking himself out of his dream world, Yamucha smiled and scratched the back of his head in a manner reminiscent of Goku.  A faint blush crept along his cheeks, and he crashed back onto the couch next to Bulma.  

Leaning back against Yamucha, Bulma smiled a wistful grin, and began to sing herself.  "Ain't no doubt about it, we were doubly blessed.  Cause we were barely seventeen, and we were barely dressed.  Ain't no doubt about it, baby got to go and shout it.  Ain't no doubt about it, we were doubly blessed."

"Cause we were barely seventeen, and we were barely dressed."  They both laughed, and in their memories, were simultaneously transported to the car ages ago.  

It was an air-top model, overlooking a lake.  Various pieces of clothing littered the car's insides, as they were both exploring the other.  Bulma's ponytail hung outside the car, as they lay side by side.  Yamucha kissed Bulma, and then sang.  "Baby don'cha hear my heart, you got it drowning out the radio. I've been waiting so long, for you to come along and have some fun."  Rising above her, Yamucha shook his hair out and began singing louder.  "And I gotta let ya know, no you're never gonna regret it."  Sitting back on his heels, he reached a hand down, and pulled Bulma up to meet him, a shocked gasp leaving her mouth as she closed her eyes.  "So open up your eyes I got a big surprise, it'll feel all right.  Well I wanna make your motor run."  

Spinning Bulma around so her back was pressed against him, Yamucha sang over her shoulder, softly bouncing her in time to the music.  "And now our bodies are oh so close and tight.  It never felt so good, it never felt so right.  And we're glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife.  C'mon! Hold on tight!  C'mon! Hold on tight!  Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night, I can see paradise by the dashboard light.  Paradise by the dashboard light."

Bulma turned toward Yamucha, hesitation evident in her eyes.  Lowering his voice, he continued to sing: "You got to do what you can, and let Mother Nature do the rest."  

Briefly, Yamucha shook out of his memories, and glanced down at the genius next to him.  "Ain't no doubt about it, we were doubly blessed.  Cause we were barely seventeen, and we were barely-" When Bulma accidentally brushed her hand on his leg, Yamucha was shocked back into the memory.  

Leaning back against the car seat, Yamucha sang to the heavens, with Bulma being seemingly oblivious.  "We're gonna go all the way tonight, we're gonna go all the way, and tonight's the night..."

Suddenly, they both dropped down out of sight, lying down across the bench-style back seat.  A voice over drifted over, and followed the "action" in the car.  "Ok, here we go, we got a real pressure cooker going here, two down, nobody on, no score, bottom of the ninth, there's the wind-up and there it is, a line shot up the middle, look at him go. This boy can really fly!  
He's rounding first and really turning it on now, he's not letting up at all, he's gonna try for second; the ball is bobbled out in center, and here comes the throw, and what a throw! He's gonna slide in head first, here he comes, he's out! No, wait; safe--safe at second base, this kid really makes things happen out there. Batter steps up to the plate, here's the pitch-- he's going, and what a jump he's got, he's trying for third, here's the throw, it's in the dirt-- safe at third! Holy cow, stolen base!  He's taking a pretty big lead out there, almost daring him to try and pick him off. The pitcher glances over, winds up, and it's bunted, bunted down the third base line, the suicide squeeze in on!  Here he comes, squeeze play, it's gonna be close, here's the throw, there's the play at the plate, holy cow, I think he's gonna make it!"

"Stop right there!"  Bulma positioned her hands on Yamucha's chest, and with a huge shove, threw him off her and against the opposite door, complete with a stunned expression on his face.  Sitting up, Bulma pulled her legs underneath her, looked Yamucha directly in the eyes, and replied back in song.  "I gotta know right now! Before we go any further-- Do you love me?  
Will you love me forever?  Do you need me?  Will you never leave me?  Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life?  Will you take me away and will you make me your wife?"  She stood up and exited the car, flinging her arms wildly to emphasize her words, the music striking dramatic chords.  "Do you love me? Will you love me forever? Do you need me?  Will you never leave me?  Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life?  Will you take me away and will you make me your wife? I gotta know right now, before we go any further.  Do you love me?  Will you love me forever?"

Climbing back in the car, Bulma looked over at her boyfriend as the music changed to a more reflective note.  A nervous look came over his face, then a reassuring one as he quickly thought out a reply.  "Let me sleep on it.  Baby, baby let me sleep on it.  Let me sleep on it, and I'll give you my answer in the morning.  Let me sleep on it.  Baby, baby let me sleep on it.  Let me sleep on it, and I'll give you my answer in the morning."  Rolling her eyes, Bulma waited as Yamucha continued to plead.  "Let me sleep on it.  Baby, baby let me sleep on it.  Let me sleep on it, and I'll give you my answer in the morning."

Frustrated, Bulma shot back angrily an insistent reply, backed by driving music.  "I gotta know right now!  Do you love me?  Will you love me forever?  Do you need me?  Will you never leave me?  Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life?  Will you take me away and will you make me your wife?"  Leaning forward, Bulma grabbed Yamucha's shoulders and placed her face close to his as she continued.  "I gotta know right now, before we go any further.  Do you love me?  Will you love me forever?"

Panicked, Yamucha attempted to calm Bulma down while repeating his previous statements.  "Let me sleep on it.  Baby, baby let me sleep on it.  Let me sleep on it, and I'll give you my answer in the morning.  Let me sleep on it!"  

Cutting him off, Bulma repeated her question.  "Will you love me forever?"

"Let me sleep on it!"

"Will you love me forever?"

Bulma remained frozen in place as Yamucha turned his head away and sang to the trees outside.  "I couldn't take it any longer, Lord I was crazed.  And when the feeling came upon me, like a tidal wave, I started swearing to my god and on my mother's grave, that I would love you to the end of time.  I swore that I would love you to the end of time!"  Removing her hands from his shoulders, Yamucha stood, exited the car, and leaned against the doorframe, while she remained in place.  "So now I'm praying for the end of time, to hurry up and arrive.  Cause if I gotta spend another minute with you, I don't think that I can really survive.  I'll never break my promise or forget my vow, but God only knows what I can do right now.  I'm praying for the end of time, it's all that I can do.  Praying for the end of time, so I can end my time with you!"

The music slowed, and both Bulma and Yamucha returned to the present, smiling at each other.  Yamucha tapped Bulma's nose, and softly sang with the dying notes.  "It was long ago, and it was far away, and it was so much better than it is today."

Bulma sighed a contented sigh, and looked back at the smiling Yamucha.  "It never felt so good, it never felt so right, and we were glowing a metal on the edge of a knife…"

"Woman!  Why have you not made me my supper?"  A yell from the Prince broke the mood, and put a final end to the music.

"Because the idea of you starving makes me happy, you leech!"  Bulma shook her head, and looked at Yamucha.  "Thanks so much for fixing those pipes.  I'd better go and attempt to keep myself from using cyanide in the Almighty's food."  

They both stood, and Yamucha quickly hugged Bulma before turning to leave.  "Yeah, with how much I like him right now, I might be stupid enough to challenge him to a fight.  Hey, is there something going on between you two?" 

Bulma glanced at the ground, a blush quickly matching her red scarf.  "No.  Not yet, at least."

"Yet?"

"I don't understand it, Yamucha.  If I did, I'd tell you.  Take care."

The door closed with a click as Yamucha left, and as Bulma left to prepare dinner, the room faded into blackness.    


	2. Weird Science

AN:  I don't own DBZ.  Never have, never will.  Same goes for "Weird Science."

Vegeta's impatience was getting the better of him.  He had already "requested" for Dr. Briefs to create a gravity room so that he could prepare for the androids, and that was not yet completed.  And now, he sat waiting for dinner.  Princes should not be kept waiting.

"Woman!  Are you so inept at cooking that you cannot figure out how to boil water?"

Inside the kitchen, Bulma rolled her eyes.  She desperately wished the Briefs' normal cook was on the job, but when Vegeta threatened to rip out his intestines and use them as casing for the hamburger, he quit.  Word spread quickly, and now no cook worth his white hat would come within fifty feet of Capsule Corporation.  So, she was stuck fixing dinner for the Prince, who, while not stuffing his face, berated her with constant insults.  She was actually beginning to muse whether the future the mysterious youth talked about was so horrid.  After all, Vegeta was dead; it can't be all that bad. 

"Woman!  Can you not hear me?"

If she admitted it to herself, she liked having the Prince around, if for nothing more than eye candy.  All those years with Yamucha taught her the finer points of separating an appreciative glance from a full-on flirting mode.  Of course, the likelihood of Bulma admitting that to herself ran roughly along par with Piccolo taking kazoo lessons.  

"Woman!"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vegeta stalking his way over to the kitchen.  Sighing, she placed the last orange in a bowl, and before he could exercise his vocal cords to continue his verbal assault, she shoved an apple in his gaping mouth.  "There!  An apple for the pig!  Happy, Your Highness?"  Storming off, Bulma left the Prince to his meal before she could be roped into another battle.  

After removing the fruit, Vegeta chuckled softly at Bulma's indignation.  Somewhere in the back of his mind, a little flash went off, nudging him that she might not be such a bad bedmate.  The preoccupation with the transformation into a Super Saiyan stifled that thought however, and he ate in mostly silence, broken only by an occasional mumbling of "Kakarott…" as the scene faded black.

Over in the partially assembled gravity chamber, Dr. Briefs sat, puffing away on a cigarette as he attempted to figure out how to have the structure maintain integrity in such high gravity, in addition to the ki blasts that would be occurring.  The small training robots were giving him the most trouble, as the most efficient designs all crumbled in seventy-five times normal gravity.  Oddly enough, despite the not-so-gentle suggestion by Vegeta on the building of the chamber, Dr. Briefs was enjoying this project.  It was a challenge, something never seen before, and he relished the test.  

And, the same could be said for another scientist not so far away.  Dr. Gero, the brilliant scientist and head of the temporarily defunct Red Ribbon army, also was enjoying this challenge.  Artificial humans that could duplicate life-like movements, and be fluid enough to defeat Goku became his current pet idea.  Challenge, indeed.  "And when I'm done, Goku shall be no more!"  While engaging in the standard maniacal laughter so characteristic of scientists gone awry, the background music began, with a bit of a funky, synthesized catch to it.  "Plastic tubes, and pots and pans.  Bits and pieces, and magic from the hand.  We're making weird science!"

Back at the gravity chamber, Dr. Briefs got a brilliant spark, and while writing it down, heard the music and began to sing.  "Things I've never seen before, behind bolted doors.  Talent and imagination, weird science!"

Adding another part of layered skin to a prototype, Dr. Gero continued his chant.  "Not what teacher said to do, making dreams come true.  Living tissue, warm flesh, weird science!"

Lying under the transitory control panel, Dr. Briefs continued.  "Plastic tubes and pots and pans.  Bits and pieces, and bits and pieces… My creation!  Is it real?  It's my creation, my creation, it's my creation…"

"Weird science!"  Priming the generator to take the charge.  "Magic and technology, voodoo dolls and chants, electricity.  We're making…"

"Weird science!  Fantasy and microchips…" Another training robot prototype scrapped.  "Shooting from the hip.  Something different, we're making…"

"Weird science!" The backup generator's lights whirred into action.  "Pictures from a magazine, diagrams and charts, mending broken hearts, and making weird science!  Something like a recipe, bits and pieces and bits and pieces…My creation!  Is it real?  It's my creation, I do not know."  Speeding from one containment tube to another, Dr. Gero checked the status while dramatically flinging his arms up in time to his quick-step and the music.  "No hesitation, no heart of gold.  Just flesh and blood, I do not know, I do not know!"  Gripping his main control plate, he stared at his latest creation.  "From my heart and from my hand, why don't people understand my intentions? . . . . Ooooooh, weird…weird science!" Releasing his white-knuckle grip, he calmed down a bit while firing up the second generator. "Weird science, magic and technology, voodoo dolls and chants…"

"From my heart and from my head, why don't people understand my intentions?"  With a pop and fizzle, the control panel shorted out, throwing the doctor into darkness, along with his ever-present cat.  Sighing, he returned to the house to get some more wire.

Simultaneously, the generator overloaded in Dr. Gero's hideout, throwing himself into darkness and stopping the music.  "Well, that's a setback."  As he began his repairs, the screen faded out.


	3. Send Me an Angel

AN:  Still own nothing.  DBZ is owned by too many corporations to list, and "Send Me an Angel" is owned by Real Life.  FYI:  Paradise…Light is owned by Meatloaf, and "Weird Science" is owned by Oingo Boingo.  

"I think I got it.  Well, aside from that pesky problem with the voice, but the gravity room is useable."  Covered in soot and dust, Dr. Briefs entered the living room where Vegeta and Bulma had been sitting in a comfortable silence.  Despite the grimy condition of his lab coat and face, he looked as if he had never been happier in his life, the elation due to accomplishment evident on his face.  

Quickly standing up from the couch, Vegeta brushed past the doctor with a mumbled complaint about the length of time it had taken to complete the gravity room.  Hearing this, Bulma rocketed off the chair and grabbed Vegeta's sleeve before he could leave the room.  "Not even so much as a thanks for providing a training space?  You know, we feed you, give you a place to live, and even drop our company responsibilities to create a training room for you and all you can do is whine?  I refuse to believe that they didn't teach you politeness as a prince."

Amused at Bulma's outrage, Vegeta turned to face her and replied; "Your face does not look very good at all while red like that.  Must be high blood pressure."  Squaring up to face the doctor, he then followed up with "And your training room's benefits will be evident when the androids do not kill you."  Dr. Briefs gave a small smile, and left the room before the bomb known as Bulma went off.  

"That's the best you can do?"  Bordering on the edge of hyperventilation, Bulma's voice grew louder as her fury caused her body to vibrate, shaking her blue hair in and out of her eyes.  "High blood pressure?  Look mister, Goku is a prince, and he doesn't act like that, and so don't give me that excuse."

Disbelief and laughter mixed in Vegeta's face to place his eyebrows somewhere near his widows' peak.  "Kakarotto?  A prince?  Of what?  All morons?"

"For your information, jerk, ChiChi is a princess, by virtue of her father being the Ox King.  Goku married ChiChi, and by Earth rules, that makes him a prince.  If, forbid, the Ox King were to die, Goku would be a king.  Got it?"

Vegeta forcibly exhaled through his nose, and crossed his arms over his chest, while glaring down at the smirking Bulma.   "And since when have I cared about this mudball's rules?  And you don't need to make a pretense of stopping me to touch my arm, I see you staring at me all the time."  A large fake smile settled on Vegeta's face as he turned and left the room to train.

Blushing, Bulma yelled some choice insults at the Prince's retreating form before heading up to her bedroom.  Once up there, she lay back on her bed and thought about what Vegeta had said.  Had she really been staring?  She did find him attractive, but his standoffish ways and thinly veiled threats were less than endearing.  In a way, though, she guessed that Vegeta and that boy from the future were not all that different.  Both had grown up under adverse conditions, where one wrong move could cost each their lives.  She supposed that the only real difference was that where the boy had been working to save others, Vegeta had to work to save himself.  And there was something about that boy that she had instantly been attached to.  Was it so wrong to be attached to Vegeta, then?  

A good distance away, the strongest man on Earth was sitting down for dinner.  Well, sitting was a formality.  Possibly, the only formality he observed, as rice cascaded all around due to his shoveling food in his gaping mouth.  "Goku?  Were you even paying attention to me?  I said that Bulma and Yamucha broke up."

"Weallwy?"

"Goku!  Swallow your food before talking!"

Swallow.  "Sorry, ChiChi.  How'd you find out?"

"I saw Yamucha in town today.  He was returning from the gym, and told me that he and Bulma had broken up.  And by the way, I had to walk home again.  Care to guess why, Mr. Doesn't Have a License?"  

A sheepish grin preceded Goku's puzzling statement.  "Well, that's good, then.  Bulma can finally move on to her destiny." 

ChiChi leaned toward Goku as her ear for gossip had been tweaked.  "What do you know about this, Son Goku?"  

Throwing his hands up in defense, Goku tried to appease ChiChi.  "Dunno.  Just got a feeling."  

"Right.  Well, could you empty and refill the bath please, Goku?"

"Sure, ChiChi."

As Goku tipped the oil barrel over to empty the dirty bathwater, his thoughts turned to Bulma and Vegeta.  _This had to happen sometime.  If it didn't, no Trunks.  I just wonder if he'll treat Bulma all right, though.  Her poor heart's had enough abuse.  Between Yamucha dying, and our constant life or death battles that keep us away for so long, she deserves so much.  Hope Vegeta can provide it._  Grabbing the bucket to carry to the river, Goku took a leisurely path as the chirping of birds slowly gave way to a monotonous synthesizer beating out a tune.  _Poor girl, I wonder what she's doing now._  _Well, Bulma…_ "Do you believe in heaven above, do you believe in love? Don't tell a lie, don't be false or untrue, it all comes back to you."

Staring at the ceiling, Bulma heard the music kick in, only with a more insistent beat.  Watching the fan oscillate, she began to sing.  "Open fire on my burning heart, I've never been lucky in love.  My defenses are down a kiss or a frown."  Swinging her legs off the bed, Bulma stood up and looked at her reflection in the mirror.  "I can't survive on my own."

Inside the gravity room, Vegeta was toying around with the sparring robots, seeing how long he could remain still before the blasts would hit him.  He had worked up quite a sweat, and had long ago abandoned his top to remain cool.  "If a girl walks in, and carves her name in my heart, I'll turn and run away."  He fired off a quick blast, exploding one of the smaller robots.  "Everyday, we've all been led astray."  One caught him, knocking him to the floor.  "It's hard to be lucky in love."

"It gets in your eyes, it's making you cry."  Goku dipped the bucket into the rushing river, accidentally splashing his orange gi and wetting his hair.  "Don't know what to do, don't know what to do."  His task finished, he lifted the bucket out the river, thoughts still on Bulma.  "You're looking for love, calling heaven above."

"Send me an angel."  Her mirrored self repeated her plea.  "Send me an angel.  Right now.  Right now."  Bulma turned from the mirror and flopped back onto her soft bed.

"Send me an angel, send me an angel."  As Vegeta fought to stand in the increased gravity, the robots saw an opening and fired in rapid succession onto his back.  However, the singing appeared to energize him, and gave him strength to stand and power up.  "Right now.  Right now."

ChiChi placed another pan into the murky dishwater as she too thought of Bulma.  Without the prior knowledge of Bulma and Vegeta's pending "meeting," she dwelled on Bulma and Yamucha's breakup while Gohan trained outside with Piccolo.  She had been humming, but she then chose to sing.  "Empty dreams can only disappoint, in a room behind your smile.   But don't give up, don't give up.  You can be lucky in love."

Emptying the bucket of water into the oil barrel, Goku wrapped up his train of thought on Bulma before re-entering his house.  "It gets in your eyes, it's making you cry. Don't know what to do, don't know what to do. You're looking for love, calling heaven above."  Wiping his hands on his gi pants, Goku went back inside his house, thinking once more of the androids.

Both Bulma and Vegeta were lying on their backs, she on her bed, while he was in the switched-off gravity room, panting.  Simultaneously, they sang.  "Send me an angel, send me an angel.  Right now, right now.  Send me an angel.  Send me an angel!  Right now.  Right now!"  

Bulma then got up and padded her way into the bathroom to partake in a cleansing shower, while Vegeta powered the gravity chamber back on, and continued his training as the screen faded black.  


	4. Shot Through the Heart

CHAPTER 4

AN: Yeah, this really should be called DBZ:  The Borrowed Operetta.  Maybe I'll change the name.  Shot Through the Heart is owned by Bon Jovi.  And, I'm still continuing a record here.  Four chapters, without using the word "smirk" to describe Vegeta.  That's gotta get me some prize.

If anyone had a chance to look out over the earth, they would be wondering if the Aurora Borealis had decided to shift and change forms.  Luckily, Kami knew better.  However, the training of the Z-fighters was doing more than its share of destructive landscaping.  Kami thought it was a great irony that the least destructive of the fighters was actually Vegeta, who was busy in the gravity chamber.  

Bulma, however, thought it was a great irony that Vegeta managed to remember how to speak, what with how similar to a caveman he had been acting.  For days now, they had not even argued.  He only came out of the gravity chamber to eat, shower, and sleep.  And, she mused; he could do with a little more showering and a little less eating.  She had given up and put a plastic sheet down over his usual chair, as she was quite tired of having to fiercely lather and scrub her upholstery after he had dripped sweat into the porous fabric.  Vegeta had mumbled some protest that began with being treated like a common house dog, but she had left the room before he had built up to his usual crescendo.  

In fact, she was pretty sure she could hear her plush carpet objecting at the moment to the Prince's arrival.  Once more, he had decided to eat before showering.  "You know, Vegeta, some people wash up for dinner.  It's called courtesy."

Easing down into his "special" chair, Vegeta prepared himself to eat as he responded, "Well, woman, I plan to return to my training once I have finished.  Would you prefer I Iounge around on your nice down comforter?"  He smiled as he unfolded his napkin, softening the lines around his eyes.  "Wait, that's right.  You would.  You would love to have me on your bed, preferably with you there, also."  

"What?  Excuse me, Prince of all Egos?  What makes you think that I would take your short ass into bed?"

"Because you keep checking out my 'short ass.'  It's alright, if you could keep your mouth shut for a longer period of time, you might actually make a decent mate one day."

"That's it!  Look, bipolar disorder boy, I'm tired of your mood swings.  Ahh!"  Bulma swung around and left the room, fuming.  Vegeta remained amused, he enjoyed toying with her.  Well, until he realized she had not fed him, that is.

"Woman!"  

Like most long-term relationships, Bulma and Yamucha didn't make a clean break at first.  They broke it off, then returned a week later, ended it, then went out again, and basically repeated that cycle for a good bit of time.  Considering the length of time that they had been together, it was no surprise that both were a bit uncomfortable without the knowledge that the other was just a quick phone call away.  Currently, though, Bulma and Yamucha were supposedly "together."  As in, they actually put on makeup/wore cologne to see the other.  

However, Yamucha, after his bravado in attempting to use the gravity chamber, had peered in on the latest exchange between Bulma and the Prince.  Let it never be said that Yamucha was an idiot, he knew how to read people, and he could tell what was progressing.  Sitting down with a resounding thud onto the dewy grass, Yamucha began to get angry with his currently "on" girlfriend.  He knew that it was irrational, that he had no real say in Bulma's choices, but Vegeta?  A man _well, less than a man, a monkey_ that had killed him?  Before Yamucha could calmly rationalize Bulma's obvious path, a driving, pulsing guitar started up in the background and beckoned Yamucha to sing along.  He felt betrayed, used, and inferior.  _No doubt that monkey would say that I am inferior.  Ha!  At least I have a heart.  Well, until Bulma shot it, that is._

"Shot through the heart, and you're to blame.  Darling, you give love a bad name!"  Standing up, Yamucha began to pace outside, the creases on his forehead threatening to swallow his eyebrows whole.  "An angel's smile is what you sell, you promise me heaven, then put me through hell."  He snorted, heard Vegeta rustle inside, and consciously lowered his ki so that the irritable Prince wouldn't blast him into the next ZIP code.  "Chains of love, got a hold on me.  
When passion's a prison you can't break free."

Yamucha leaned against the beige, rounded walls of Capsule Corporation, and could faintly hear the running water trickle through the piping.  "You're a loaded gun, there's nowhere to run."  Pushing himself away, he snarled and shouted as the music drove harder.  "No one can save me, the damage is done!"  Suddenly dropping to his knees, he pounded the soft earth with his fists as he continued to yell.  "Shot through the heart, and you're to blame.  You give love a bad name.  I play my part and you play your game, you give love a bad name."  He sat back on his heels, glancing down at the grass stains on his previously pristine orange gi.  "You give love a bad name."

Reluctantly, Yamucha rose once more, and brushed the excess grass off his knees.  He was about to leave when he heard Vegeta's voice reverberate throughout the house and outside, calling to see if Bulma had finished her shower yet.  Her terse reply, colored with sailor language, indicated that she was.  _She'll be reapplying her makeup now, making sure she is immaculate.  For such a dirty hobby as tinkering with machines, she sure insists on a clean body.  _Thinking back, Yamucha couldn't force himself to leave as he thought about Bulma.  "You paint your smile on your lips, blood red nails on your fingertips.  A schoolboys dream, you act so shy.  Your very first kiss was your first kiss goodbye."  

Smiling to himself, Yamucha continued down memory lane while resting against the white lawn furniture.  "You're a loaded gun, there's nowhere to run."  Placing his shod feet onto the table, Yamucha threw his head back and yelled.  "No one can save me, the damage is done!  Shot through the heart, and you're to blame.  You give love a bad name.  I play my part and you play your game, you give love a bad name.  You give love…" 

He sighed, and allowed his head to droop forward.  Perhaps it was time to face reality.  Bulma was no longer his girlfriend.  Sure, they may be together now, but the Prince was rapidly speeding into Yamucha's former position.  Part of Yamucha wanted to watch the inevitable train wreck; he knew that their eventual meeting would not be a calm, romantic affair.  But, it broke his heart too much to see Bulma with another.  Removing his feet from the table, Yamucha levitated a bit, gave a final glance to Capsule Corporation, and sang with the dying strains.  "You give love a bad name.  You give love a bad name…" And as he flew off into the distance, the screen went dark once more.     

AN Part Deux:  

Kajidragon:  Thanks!  You've inspired me to take up the task of trying out both a song style and a V/B.  Sheesh, next time, could you inspire me for something easier, like cold fusion? ;)

Ryoko:  I'm glad I'm not the only one that doesn't think Yamucha was a absolute jerk.  I'd better not say that too loud, though.  


	5. Head Like a Hole

CHAPTER 5

AN:  Please, leave a review.  It's depressing to have more chapters than reviews.  Head Like a Hole is owned by Nine Inch Nails.  Normally, I use the whole song, not cutting out anything, but I chopped off the repeating chorus at the end.  There's only so many ways to have people repeat things.

It was almost a cliché.  In fact, Mrs. Briefs no longer asked how her daughter's day was; she simply asked the topic of the fight for the day.  Once again, Bulma and Vegeta were squared off against each other, voices rising as they attempted to "win" the argument once and for all.  Leaning against the back of the living room sofa, Vegeta had his arms folded across his chest as Bulma leaned forward into his personal space, using wild gestures to emphasize her points.

"And furthermore, Vegeta, there is no reason to haul off and blow out half of the rear wall!  Do you have any sort of idea how much that costs to replace?  Or does that even faze you?  Maybe it's a genetic Saiyan defect, since Goku doesn't seem to understand this, either!"

"Do not compare me to Kakkarot!"  Unfolding his arms, Vegeta took an aggressive posture, causing Bulma to unconsciously retreat.  "And woman, your family is the richest on this pitiful excuse for a planet.  What is your preoccupation with money?  Is that what you pray to?  You precious zenni?"

Bulma rolled her eyes, and decided to return the sarcasm.  "Yes, Vegeta, I do."  Digging into one of her cargo pants pockets; Bulma pulled out a zenni note, and held it in front of her before mock prostrating herself before it.  "Oh, great zenni.  Hear my prayers.  Save me from the idiot with the bad hairdo.  Smite him from this earth before his idiocy infects us all."  Huffing a sigh, Bulma shoved the zenni back in her pocket before fixing a glare at the Prince.  

"Don't appear sanctimonious, woman."  Vegeta turned and began gathering up towels and water bottles to take with him into the gravity chamber.  "For all the whining and complaining about what a ruthless person I am, you and your family are worse."

"Really, Vegeta?  Care to explain how we are worse than a murderer such as yourself?"

Slinging a towel over one shoulder, Vegeta saw a chance to make Bulma falter, and took advantage.  "Simple.  When I kill, I kill in a fight.  You walk into a fight knowing that you may die.  My opponents had ample opportunity and knowledge to reverse their fortunes.  With your family, however, people do not have the same prospects.  For all the money you possess, you could easily place a homeless population the size of Orange City into relative comfort."

Bulma wrinkled her forehead and folded her arms.  "What's your point?"

"Did you ever consider that the homeless most likely resent you?  You could do so much, but you hoard your money for yourselves, like it is your idol.  They have no chance against you, while my opponents do."  Half smiling, Vegeta began to leave before Bulma spun him back around with her anger and frustration at having the arrogant Prince point this out.

"It is not our job here at Capsule Corporation to help everyone!  We can't meet that kind of expectations!"  Running her hand over her face, a note of sadness crept into Bulma's next statement.  "We can't."

Glaring at Bulma, Vegeta coldly returned with, "And it is not my job to protect this earth from the androids.  Be glad I am choosing to."  Seeing that Bulma could no longer meet his eyes, Vegeta pressed the point.  "You worship your money so extensively that you defend it to an outsider?  Pathetic.  You should let me control you, and this company."  Bulma shivered, trapped, as the background noise changed into a drum beat.  Vegeta began pacing around Bulma like a caged panther, striking out verbally as he began to sing. "God money, I'll do anything for you.  God money, just tell me what you want me to."  Spitting in disgust, Vegeta continued as Bulma became more withdrawn.  "God money nail me up against the wall.  God money don't want everything, he wants it all."

As if a dam were suddenly opened, Bulma snapped her head up at Vegeta and retorted belligerently.  "No, you can't take it, no you can't take it, no you can't take that away from me."

A malicious glint flashed as Vegeta returned her words in a predatory manner.  "No, you can't take it, no you can't take it, no you can't take that away from me."

A strangled yell erupted from Bulma's throat as she yelled back at her stalker.  "Head like a hole, black as your soul, I'd rather die than give you control."

Undaunted, Vegeta snarled and, despite his lack of height, managed to loom over Bulma.  "Bow down before the one you serve, you're going to get what you deserve."

Instantly forcing her back erect, Bulma rejoined Vegeta's taunt with the same taunt, thrown back.  "Bow down before the one you serve, you're going to get what you deserve."

Sauntering behind the fuming Bulma, Vegeta stepped up and gripped her shoulders from behind, pressing his back close enough to feel her shoulder blades press into his pectoral muscles.  Leaning in, he placed his mouth close to her ear, each exhale blowing the tiny hairs found there flat, each inhale pressing his chest and lower abdomen into her back.  "God money's not looking for the cure.  God money's not concerned about the sick among the pure.  God money let's go dancing on the backs of the bruises, god money's not one to choose."  

"No you can't take it!"  Bulma wrenched herself away from the Prince, and abruptly spun to face him.  "No you can't take it, no you can't take that away from me!  No, you can't take it, no you can't take it, no you can't take that away from me!"  Snapping her hands up to his chest, Bulma pushed on the Saiyan while yelling in his face.  "Head like a hole, black as your soul!"

Impassive, Vegeta leaned in and whispered, "I'd rather die than give you control."  He then pivoted away, and continued on to the gravity chamber, intent on resuming training.  Bulma numbly stumbled over to the couch, and flopped down, her argument having worn her out.  The music over, Bulma pondered over what Vegeta had said about herself and money.  _He is affecting me way too much.  Perhaps there is a way to put the chamber somewhere in the mountains, away from me.  He can hunt for his food.  _Pondering this, continued on her day.  

Later on, however, she would be once more interrupted from her work as an explosion from the gravity chamber rocked the house, forcing the screen black.   


	6. So Complicated

AN:  Last scene in this act.  We're going to have a nice little interlude, and then Act 2!  I'm going to focus on some of the other characters (Krillin, Tien, Gohan, etc) in Act 2, but I won't leave Vegeta and Bulma alone.  So Complicated is owned by Memory Dean.

Saiyans always trained their hardest, despite mitigating forces.  Vegeta knew this, but still knew the extent of his injuries would more than likely slow him down.  Rationally, he knew that continuing right where he left off would not be a good idea, but his pride forced his finger to hover over the gravity chamber's controls, tempted to press in a much higher gravity.  Not surprisingly, pride won out over logic, and Vegeta punched the "start" button.  

Without delay, he was slammed into the flooring; each strained rib feeling as if it would collapse unto itself with every breath.  Vegeta strained to stand, but his hyper extended elbow cried out in too sharp a pain to bear his weight.  Growling, Vegeta tried to bring his legs under him, succeeding only in face planting.  As he lay there, he debated using a bit of ki to levitate himself, but decided against it.  After all, he was training his muscles today, not something as easy as flying.  

Inside Capsule Corporation, Bulma shook her head at the stubborn Prince.  After all the time she put into healing him, he repays her by inevitably re-injuring all his wounds.  Obstinate Saiyans.  Making up the bed Vegeta had recovered on, Bulma flicked the comforter over the bed before smoothing it out.  Sighing, she wished that Goku would visit; but she knew that he was busy training, most likely with Gohan and Piccolo.  She missed Son Goku, and the happiness he conveyed.  Such a drastic disparity from the Prince she cared for in sickness and health.  Chuckling at that last thought, she wondered what a marriage to the Prince would entail.  _A death wish. I can hear it now.  "Woman!  Now that we are married, you must obey me!  Did you not hear the minister?" _

Was it so wrong though, that she burdened herself with caring for Vegeta?  Logically, yes.  A logical, reasonable scientist such as herself should have dismissed Vegeta for the trapped child that he is and moved on.  However, she mused, guys never had entered her logical side.  That would explain her attraction to the "bad boy" Yamucha.  Sitting down on the newly made bed, Bulma slipped one of the bandages that Vegeta had cast off through her fingers, caressing the smooth gauze.  _Let's just chalk it up to his physique, and move on.  This medicine smell must be affecting your brain, Bulma._  Dropping the bandage in the garbage, Bulma stood and went to her room, leaving the thoughts of Vegeta in the garbage along with the bandage.  

Howling, Vegeta stood as the previously twinging hamstring snapped.  As he was finally in a standing position, Vegeta reached back and felt along his injured leg.  Coming across the torn area, he winced as he dug his first two fingers into the golf-ball sized hole under the surface.  Luckily, what was an eight-week injury for humans was merely a few days setback for Vegeta.  Unfortunately, that rip would cost him some flexibility for a while.  "Computer, begin program!"  With a sudden whir, the training robots lit up, and began circling Vegeta.  Acquiring their target, they fired.  Bulma had programmed these well, they aimed for wherever they sensed an injury.

"Hope you feel better, Yamucha!"  Bulma hung up the phone, smiling after her conversation with the ex-bandit.  He had caught Puar's cold, and was sniffling miserably.  After getting a hearty laugh at the mighty warrior sounding so pitiful, she had promised to bring some soup over.  From the can, of course.  As if she would cook soup from scratch.  While stirring the condensed soup, she heard the rumbling and blasts from the gravity chamber.  A drum kicked in as she contemplated Vegeta's personality and drive.  _Not so much different from my drive over inventions, or to achieve a goal.  _She tasted the soup, determined it needed more heat, and kept stirring.  Making itself known, the drum tipped Bulma's throat into singing about the Prince.  "Never take the time to be, all you want and you believe.  Underneath the flesh you see, so complicated."

Snarling, Vegeta blasted away one training bot as another caught his hamstring.  He fought a dizzy spell brought on by the medicine Bulma had given him intravenously.  "A better animal could walk on through this, lift the spell and raise the chains."  Flipping out of harms way, he landed on his hurt appendage, and faltered.  "A better animal could laugh straight through this, swim the rapids right past the pain.  The medication has left me faded.  Tear it apart, it's so complicated!"  Jumping up, Vegeta powered up, hovering.  Yelling, he repeated the mantra.  "So complicated, so complicated, so complicated, so complicated!"

After taking the soup off the oven, Bulma had once more gone to her room to change clothes and freshen up before taking the soup to Yamucha.  A particularly loud blast made her look out the window, peering at the gravity chamber.  "Underneath a bloody sun, I wonder why and who has won.  I wounded you and you to me, still complicated!"  

After the first wave of bots had been defeated, Vegeta glared around before idly thinking about Bulma.  Angry at her for intruding on his thoughts, and angry at his injuries, he sang forcefully.  "Desires and wants and needs.  Desires you kept from me.  Desires and wants and needs, so complicated!"  Smelling the oil, Vegeta braced himself for the next onslaught as he continued to sing.  "A better animal could walk on through this, lift the spell and raise the chains.  A better animal could laugh straight through this, swim the rapids right past the pain."  Not bothering to dodge, Vegeta charged at each robot individually, as if it were a personal vendetta.  "Tear it all apart, so complicated!"  

An earring affixed.  "So complicated!"

A blast ripping through metal.  "So complicated!"

Lipstick blotted.  "So complicated!"

An energy pulse, that destroyed all the training bots, flickering with the tiniest hint of gold.  "So complicaaaaated!"  

Flinging open the door, Vegeta strode into Capsule Corp, sweat and blood cascading down.  As he ascended the stairs, his gaze was solely on Bulma's closed door.  Gripping the doorknob, Vegeta swung it open with enough force to loosen the hinges.  "Vegeta?  Will you quit dripping your nasty blood on my nice…"  Not letting her finish, Vegeta grabbed Bulma by the shoulders and yanked her into a crushing kiss as the screen faded out.  

AN Part 2:  

Tarik:  Thanks.  I never have cared for the "Yamucha's a bleeding idiot" versions.  If he was so horrid, why did Bulma stay with him that long?  And why were they friends at the tournament before Buu's arrival?  I think passion slipped into comfort, which begat friendship, so that's what I'm writing.  We'll see more of the bandit in the future.


	7. Love Shack (Interlude 1)

CHAPTER 7

AN:  It's the interlude, folks.  This part's pure humor, no plot advancement, but isn't it fun?  Love Shack is owned by the B-52's.

It was a nice rhythm, a constant drumming.  However, it was driving Krillin insane.  "Bulma, will you quit banging your fingers on the table?"

A sheepish grin preceded a cessation of the offending sound.  Bulma held her hands up and apologized.  "Sorry, Krillin.  I was just thinking, though.  Why is it that every time there's a problem, we all go to Master Roshi's?  What is it about here that we gravitate to like outlying planets?"  

"It's my winning good looks!"  Turning toward the new voice, both Bulma and Krillin rolled their eyes at the turtle hermit.  Master Roshi joined the pair at the low table, not missing the opportunity to ogle Bulma.  She just rolled her eyes once more, and leaned away from the old pervert.  

A bit later, Chi-Chi and Goku entered, cheerful as always.  Gohan was on his way, finishing up his training with Piccolo.  Upon greeting everyone, Chi-Chi asked Bulma where the others were.

"Well, Yamucha's upstairs, Tien's not going to make it, and Vegeta, well, Vegeta's being Vegeta."

"Rude, stubborn, and refusing to do anything but train?"

"Exactly."

Lunch was served, and when even Goku was full, everyone relaxed back in his or her seats.  Bulma once more asked the group why everyone always congregated at the hermit's house, and Master Roshi popped up with "My house is a love shack, that's why!" 

Everyone groaned, and a familiar beat kicked into gear.  Krillin piped up, "Gee, why is it that you never have a girl over aside from Bulma or Chi-Chi, then?"

Undaunted, the old pervert stood, using his walking stick first as balance, progressing into a prop.  It seems he had decided to sing his response.  "If you see a faded sign by the side of the road that says 15 miles to the…"

Possessed by the song, Chi-Chi suddenly rose, jumping into the song.  "Loooooove shack!"  Love shack, yeah, yeah!"

The song's electricity jumped, Bulma stood up, and joined Chi-Chi and Master Roshi.  "I'm heading down the Atlanta highway.  Looking for the love getaway, heading for the love getaway."

Under his breath, Yamucha poked Krillin and whispered, "What's an Atlanta?"  Krillin only shrugged.

Twirling his stick, Master Roshi danced around the table, linked by elbows with Chi-Chi.  "I got me a car, it's as big as a whale, and we're heading on down to the love shack.  I got me a car, it seats about twenty, so hurry up, and bring your jukebox money!"

"The love shack is a little old place where we can get together!"  Chi-Chi had let go of the karate master, and now was dancing with Bulma while they sang simultaneously.  "Love shack, baby.  Love shack, that's where it's at!  Love shack, that's where it's at!"

"Sign says.."

"Whoo!"

"Stay away fools, 'cause love rules, at the love shack!"

"Well, it's set way back, in the middle of a field, just a funky old shack, and I gotta get back!"

As Bulma and Chi-Chi danced around Master Roshi, the shock wore off the Z-fighters, and they began either bouncing in their seat, or, in the case of Goku, dancing around with carefree abandon.  

Bulma stepped forward, while Chi-Chi shook her hips in the background.  "Glitter on the mattress, glitter on the highway, glitter on the front porch, glitter in the hallway!"

By this point, everyone was up dancing, watching the unlikely singing trio of Bulma, Chi-Chi, and Master Roshi.  Well, aside from Vegeta, that is.  When Goku had started dancing, his power level had inadvertently risen.  Vegeta, curious as to the reason for the surge, had flown over in a hurry, only to view this impromptu Z-fighter Solid Gold.  

Oblivious as to their new visitor, Chi-Chi stepped up and joined Bulma once more.  "The love shack is a little old place where we can get together!  Love shack!"

Fading into the background, Bulma and Chi-Chi provided backup for the turtle hermit.  "Huggin' and a kissin', dancin' and a lovin', wearin' next to nothing, 'cause it's hot as an oven.  The whole shack shimmies! The whole shack shimmies when everybody's movin' around and around and around and around!"

"Everybody's moving, everybody's grooving, baby!"

"Folks lining up outside, just to get down!"

"Everybody's moving, everybody's grooving, baby!"

"Funky little shack, funky little shack!"

Bulma and Chi-Chi, dancing with each other, began twisting and turning around Master Roshi, who promptly developed a nosebleed.  Vegeta, on the other hand, had closed his eyes to determine if some evil force had possessed the members of Kame House.  And, he reasoned to himself, if that turns out to be the case, he's leaving as fast as possible.

Master Roshi once more stepped to the front and sang out.  "Hop in my Chrysler, it's as big as a whale, and it's about to set sail!  I got me a car, it seats about twenty, so hurry up, and bring your jukebox money!"

Scooting off to the sides of the room, Bulma and Chi-Chi slowly advanced their way into the center while singing in chorus.  "Bang, bang, bang, on the door, baby!"

"Knock a little louder, sugar!"

"Bang, bang, bang, on the door, baby!"

"I can't hear you!"

"Bang bang!"  Reaching the center, both girls yelled louder in response to the calling.

"On the door baby!"

"Bang bang!"

"On the door!"

Suddenly, Chi-Chi turned to Bulma.  "You're what?"

"Tin roof, rusted!"

Dancing around all the members of Kame House, save Vegeta, the girls continued the chorus.  "Love shack, baby love shack!  Love shack, baby love shack!  Love shack, baby love shack!"

Returning to Master Roshi, the women hooked their elbows in with the hermit's, while he finished off the song.  "Hugging and kissing, dancing and loving at the Love….Shack."

The song ended, everyone looked at each other, puzzled.  Bulma and Chi-Chi looked down at their arms, intertwined with Master Roshi's own.  Bulma pulled away in disgust, while Chi-Chi screamed and hit him over the head.  Krillin and Yamucha shook their heads, and sat back down.  Goku, being the happy person that he is, thought it was great.  Vegeta, on the other hand, was curled in the corner, muttering something about not letting them invade his head.  

"I can't believe I just did that," Bulma moaned into her hands.  As everyone reflected in his or her own special way, the screen faded black.


	8. Contest!

All right, people, I need some help.  I am completely stuck as a song for the appearance of 16, 17, and 18.  I can't think of a good song for them to sing.  So, I figured that I'd toss it out for others to help.  Come up with a good suggestion, and you'll be one of Bulma's friends/associates in a future chapter.  You can create your own name and looks, and you'll be in the story to help me move the plot.  Leave your email address in the review, and if yours is the chosen one, I'll email you with the deal.  

Here are the rules:

1.  The song can't be laden with profanity.  I'll bump this up to a PG-13, but no higher.  

2.  I'm trying to avoid the cliché songs/groups:  Savage Garden, Limp Bizkit, Linkin Park, etc.  Not that they're bad, I'm just doing things differently.

3.  The song needs to be semi-commonplace so that I can hear it to write the chapter.  

4.  If I don't choose yours, don't be a whiny butt.  Shee.

5.  Please, along with your idea, leave me a review of the story thus far.  It'll help me immensely.  

Thanks!

SkittleKicks     


	9. One

AN:  Act 2, baby!  This chapter was inspired by Kajidragon's wonderful story, Forever Has Ended.  Go, read, and be inspired.  Contest is still on until I remove that chapter.  And yes, I'll deal more with Vegeta and Bulma next chapter.  Expect needles.  One is owned by U2.   

Chi-Chi sighed as another pot of rice was added to the range.  She wished she possessed nicer cooking pots, but when cooking for two Saiyan appetites, the sturdy metal would have to suffice.  The heat and moisture welling up in the small kitchen began wilting her hair, coaxing it from the tightly drawn bun to the annoyance of Chi-Chi.  Brushing back the errant hair, she grabbed an oven glove, and pulled out a covered dish from the oven.  _Let's see.  Soup, rice, the main course, vegetables, some fruit, yeah, I think I've got it covered.  _

Just as she began to fill the glasses with water, twin bursts of familiar energy zoomed in and took their places around the table.  Goku, upon spotting the food, immediately began attempting to shove it into his mouth.  About to do the same, Gohan spotted his mother's irritated face, and held off until she had seated herself and nodded for him to begin.  Food went in every possible direction as the two Saiyans stuffed themselves.  Chi-Chi, used to this behavior, had long ago fixed herself a modest plate, and contented herself with eating directly off that plate.  After they were first married, Chi-Chi had made the mistake once of reaching for a roll that Goku was reaching for, and ended up with her hand lodged in his mouth.  

"Would you like some more water?"  Sometimes it was so easy to forget that the Namek was there.  He never asked for anything, never spoke unless asked a direct question.  Despite her obvious reservations about Piccolo, her desire to be a gracious hostess overrode her distrust of the creature her son loved like family.  

"I'll get it myself."  Making a face at the pig-out session of Gohan and Goku, Piccolo left the room to refill his glass.  Some days, he feared that the hunger-lusting Goku would view him as a giant piece of broccoli, and the Saiyan would attempt to eat him.

Finally full, Gohan wiped his mouth off, and thanked his mother for the meal.  Chi-Chi recognized the expectant look on her son's face, and so she excused him from the table, doubtless to return to training with Piccolo.  She sighed again as she wished she had someone to actually converse with.  "Goku?  How was your day?"

"Fyne, Chi.  Wae twained hrd.."

Fighting to stifle the urge to smack her husband, Chi-Chi admonished Goku.  "Without the entire contents of your bowl?"

Sheepish, Goku swallowed and proceeded to relate to Chi-Chi his day.  She didn't find it particularly interesting, but just having another person speak was nice for a change.  When he was done, he rose from his messy place, thanked Chi-Chi for the meal, and prepared himself to fly off to join Gohan and Piccolo.  As he raised two fingers to his forehead, he looked down and saw the downtrodden look of his wife. Removing his fingers, he raised one eyebrow in question. "What's wrong?"

"It's alright.  No big deal, Goku.  Just lonely for company."

Confused, Goku sat back down.  The urge to train burned inside him, but Chi-Chi being upset triggered some protective nature, and that had to be soothed first.  "What do you mean?  I'm here, and so is Gohan most nights."  

"You're here to eat, sleep, and get a new gi.  Never to talk, never to comfort, never to use the house as more than a stopover point."  Chi-Chi stood, and began clearing off the table.  "Never mind.  Go, train.  I'll be here when you're done."

Immediately, Goku brightened.  "OK!"  Waving, he disappeared once more to continue fighting.

Picking up a damp, worn cloth, Chi-Chi wiped off the table, and whispered to herself; "I'll be here.  Will you come back?"

Later that night, Goku slipped inside his room after training.  Gohan had already gone to bed, and now Goku was ready to let his muscles heal before the next long day arrived.  Usually, Chi-Chi was asleep by the time he came home, but this time she was sitting on the edge of their bed, staring at a picture of their wedding ceremony.  Wrinkling her nose, she pointed outside.  "Son Goku, do not return to this room until you have washed yourself off!  I will not have you stinking up my clean sheets!"

Admonished, Goku cleaned off, and came back once more to find his wife still staring at the wedding photo.  "Gosh, the wedding cake was good, wasn't it?"

Chi-Chi had to smile at the one-track mind of her love.  Turning, she looked into the eyes of her partner.  "Do you love me, Goku?"

"Where'd you get that question from?"

"Just answer it.  Do you love me?"

Goku took a deep breath and sat down next to his wife.  Confusion and more than a hint of anger rose to the surface.  "Why are you asking?"

A tear began to form in her deep brown eyes as she continued.  "I was thinking.  Maybe it'd be better if we split up.  I mean, you could train freely without worrying about me, and not have to deal with me anymore."

"What are you talking about?"

"Just go!"  Chi-Chi threw a pillow at the door, followed by a blanket.  She was so tired of being ignored, and used as a food and washing tool, that it all bubbled to the surface.  "Leave!"

Goku came behind the now sobbing Chi-Chi and placed his arms around her.  She buried her head into the crook of his shoulder, leaving a damp trail along his bare chest.  A soft, haunting melody began as he tried to comfort his weeping spouse.  He placed a kiss in her hair, and began to softly serenade her.  "Is it getting better?  Or do you feel the same?  Will it make it easier on you now? You got someone to blame.  You say..."

"One love, one life.  When it's one need, in the night."  Chi-Chi lifted her head, and looked out the window, unable to look Goku in the eye, but letting his strength comfort her.  "One love, we get to share it."  She turned her head back into the broad chest.  "Leaves you baby, if you don't care for it."

Gathering his wife tighter, Goku continued to attempt to placate the sobbing woman in his arms.  "Did I disappoint you?  Or leave a bad taste in your mouth?  You act like you never had love, and you want me to go without.  Well it's..."

Chi-Chi shifted away, turning her back completely to her love.  "Too late, tonight.  To drag the past out into the light."  Curving her body a bit, she gazed into Goku's soft eyes.  "We're one, but we're not the same.  We get to carry each other, carry each other.  One..."  Goku kissed her hair again, and she settled into his muscular frame before recalling her previous anger.  "Have you come here for forgiveness?  Have you come to raise the dead?"  She untangled herself from his arms, and walked to the windowsill, staring at the stars.  "Have you come here to play Jesus to the lepers in your head?"

Goku stood, and slowly made his way to the star-silhouetted figure of his wife.  "Did I ask too much?  More than a lot?"

"You gave me nothing, now it's all I got."

"We're one, but we're not the same."  Placing his hands on Chi-Chi's shoulders, Goku lightly rubbed the muscles found there.  "Well, we hurt each other, then we do it again.  You say…"

"Love is a temple, love is a higher law.  Love is a temple, love the higher law."

Goku pulled Chi-Chi back into his chest again, connecting their energies.  "You ask me to enter, but then you make me crawl.  And I can't be holding on to what you got, when all you got is hurt."

"One love, one blood, one life."

"You got to do what you should."

"One life, with each other."

"Sisters, brothers."

Swiveling, Chi-Chi gripped her husband's shoulders as they sang together, building to a crescendo.  "One life, but we're not the same.  We get to carry each other, carry each other."

The music faded off, and Goku wrapped his arms tighter around his wife as the screen returned to black.

AN 2:  Thanks, SSJTom!  Those songs are not quite what I'm looking for, but you will see references to at least one of them, they stirred my head. :)


	10. Comfortably Numb

AN:  Comfortably Numb is owned by Pink Floyd.  The needles are owned by Bulma, much to Goku's relief. Sorry about the melancholy nature of this chapter, it's gonna provide a nice contrast soon. ;) I also believe in generally not using the Japanese terms, because there is a whole world of nuance lost in translation.  However, I will use "Sensei," because "Master" sounds too much like a slave deal to me.

"Four minutes until sequence Vegeta-4 will be activated."  Hearing the computer's metallic, impersonal voice caused Vegeta to growl in irritation at the length of time required.  Four minutes?  That is four minutes he could be using to train and become stronger than that third-class idiot!  Unfortunately, as the artificial gravity had to remain off for the time it took to load the program, Vegeta couldn't even do isometric exercises.  And, worst of all, this was four minutes where his mind wasn't preoccupied with training.  

He wasn't sure exactly what had possessed him to roughly kiss Bulma.  Correction, he was sure.  Lust, passion, desire, those emotions were the few that had been encouraged by Freeza.  Bulma had always called him a cold, unfeeling man, but she couldn't have been further from the truth.  Vegeta didn't care for people; he cared for achievement and power and Freeza stoked the flames.  After all, what is bloodlust without the lust?  

Perhaps he had been stuck on this planet too long, or perhaps he genuinely found Bulma attractive.  It didn't matter.  The seeds of passion were rooting themselves into his body and mind, and he welcomed it.  It was another release, another outlet, another goal.  She obviously must feel the same, Vegeta mused, with the passion she had kissed him.  

"Three minutes until sequence Vegeta-4 will be activated."

Then again, maybe the woman did more than just lust after him.  When he awoke from his medicine-induced slumber, he found her lying there, asleep.  She must have been monitoring him, to ensure his safety.  That was unnerving, for someone to care about the Prince?  She played it off, but her eyes betrayed her.  Caring, kindness, and a genuine desire for a recovery shone through.  

"Two minutes until sequence Vegeta-4 will be activated."  

Yes, that unnerved the Prince.  Passion, he understood.  Love and caring?  Better for it to be beaten out than become a weakness.  

Over on Kame island, Krillin stood, hands on knees, panting.  That last Kamehameha wave had drained him of all his excess energy, and now he barely possessed enough to stand.  But, giving in would mean he was finished.  And Krillin was never finished.  "Kaaaa….mmmmeee…"

"Krillin!  Come over here and take a look at this girl.  Man, that's got to be surgery, but I don't care!"  Groaning, Krillin reabsorbed the energy in his palms.  

"Sensei, please.  I must become stronger!"

"And you think you're going to do it by falling over dead?"  Roshi stood, and walked to the edge of the island, sunglasses flashing in the light.  "Didn't I teach you when you were a kid that rest was just as important as training?"  

Krillin's respect and irritation warred within him for a response.  "Yes, Sensei.  I understand."

"Good.  Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a blond waiting for me."  

Retiring to his upstairs room, Krillin laid back on the futon mattress laid out.  His body was drained, but his mind was active, preventing him from sleeping.  He closed his eyes, and allowed the thoughts to overtake him.  _If I do, no, that won't work.  How about?  Bah, why do I even bother?  I can't keep up with Goku, or even Gohan.  Piccolo's got me beat, and much to my regret, even Vegeta.  It's just a show I put on.  Freeza killed me, and would have again if not for that kid.  I remember when I could at least see Goku's movements.  Now, I have a hard time watching him walk.  How did I go from Z-fighter to cheering squad?  _

_But that kid said that we all die fighting the androids.  And I can't sit back and wait for others to do it for me!  I won't die because I was too damn lazy to train!  It may be just a pretty show I put on, but I won't sit back.  I can't.  I might be useless to them, but I won't be to myself._  Krillin sighed, he wasn't usually quite this melancholy, but the realization of one's mortality usually caused a bit of self-doubt.

Vegeta snorted.  Can't this thing go any faster?  He leaned his head against the metal boundary of the gravity room, and waited.  A steady, faint pulse of music started up as he thought back to when he was injured, and Bulma took care of him.  He allowed the flashback to grip him, and drifted back to the past.

The music was stronger now, and through his closed eyes, he could hear Bulma faintly singing to him.  

"Hello, is there anybody in there?  Just nod if you can hear me.  Is there anyone home?"

Restlessly, he shifted, the feeling of being bound to the bed causing him to try to break free of the straps.  Unfortunately, he was not strong enough yet, and his flailing around was only aggravating the injuries.

"Come on, now, I hear you're feeling down.  Well, I can ease your pain, get you on your feet again."

Ease his pain?  She had a senzu bean?  Hardly.  And he was not keen on allowing these Earth doctors access to his body.  

"Relax, I need some information first, just the basic facts.  Can you show me where it hurts?"

It's just the woman?  She's been around the rest of the weaklings enough to know how to take care of an injury.  Fine, I'll concede.  That feels nice, a cool damp cloth.  It must be this haze I'm in that makes her voice sound so soothing.

"There is no pain, you are receding.  A distant ship's smoke on the horizon."  

"Wo…ma…"  Oh, I can't talk.  Darn oxygen mask.  I just want to close my eyes again.  

"You are only coming through in waves.  Your lips move, but I can't hear what you're saying."

Reaching up with his free hand, Vegeta pulled the mask off his mouth.  He relaxed back again, while Bulma continued to prepare a needle for use.  Between the medicine and injuries, he was hardly lucid, and started singing in a stream of consciousness.  "When I was a child, I had a fever.  My hands felt just like two balloons.  Now I've got that feeling once again."  Bulma turned back around, eyes shining with concern as she looked down on the proud warrior.  She silently urged him to continue.  "I can't explain, you would not understand.  I have become, comfortably numb."

His eyes closed, and Bulma gathered up her supplies.  When he felt a cold swab on his arm, he opened his eyes, and his pupils dilated at the needle she held.  While he wasn't Goku, he still didn't care for needles.  After all, who wouldn't be afraid of a device that allows the weakest of people to swiftly insert something into your bloodstream?"  

Holding his eyes steady, Bulma attempted to ease his nervousness.  "OK, just a little pinprick.  There'll be no more…"

"AHHHHH!"

"But you may feel a little sick."  Vegeta could only close his eyes as the nausea passed over him.  After the initial wave, he began to feel remarkably better.  "Can you stand up?  I do believe it's working, good."

Another energy wave crashed through the water as Krillin continued his training.  He felt useless, but that wasn't going to discourage him.  "That'll keep you going through the show, come on it's time to go."  That rest had recharged him physically, but he was still down mentally.  "When I was a child, I caught a fleeting glimpse, out of the corner of my eye.  I turned to look, but it was gone, I cannot put my finger on it now.  The child is grown, the dream is done, and I have become, comfortably numb."  The guitars faded, and Krillin prepared for another attack.

"Vegeta-4 activated in 3…2…1…Vegeta-4 is now activated."  The sudden push of gravity against Vegeta's body snapped him out of his flashback, and caused a snarl to rise to his lips.  Comfortably numb, indeed.  He would not allow that.  And as yet another wave of bots came after the Prince, the screen faded out.  

AN2:

Kaji:  Thanks.  Your story yanked that one out of left field; I do think it inspired me to do one of my best works.  

SSJTom:  You're so sweet.  You'll get a cameo at least in an upcoming chapter.  

Coming soon:  Bulma's pissed about Vegeta's hot and cold mood swings, and double meanings abound!  
  



	11. What Do I Have to Do?

AN:  Once again, I was inspired by Kajidragon.  I tell ya, if you haven't gone over there and read her stuff yet, do so now.  Sheesh.  What Do I Have to Do is owned by Stabbing Westward.  These next few chapters are what I like to call my catapults:  sending characters flying into each other at rocket speed. ;)

It was a vice.  A silly little human vice that he, the Prince of all Saiyans, should not be even considering.  But dammed if a beer and chocolate wasn't exactly what his stomach was craving.  And so, he lay on his bed, beer in one hand, Dove bar in the other.  This was not helping his training one bit.  It was hardly his fault, though.  The woman was the one who had shoved a chocolate bar in his mouth one day to shut him up.  He couldn't be blamed.

Now, for the gravity room being shorted out, well, that wasn't his fault either.  The medication had caused his control to be a bit shaky and what had started out as a simple ki blast had quickly shot up to something rivaling the power of Gohan's Masenko.  And, due to the medicine once again, his aim was off.  Instead of blasting the robot into oblivion, he blew the control panel far enough away Dr. Briefs thought "there must be pieces in the next dimension."  Heh.  Next dimension indeed.  Only other dimension he knew of was the one where that kid had come from.  

Damn kid.  How dare such a young boy possess a power that he himself had not yet attained?  All the Prince needed now was for the idiot's brat son to surpass him, also.  Damn kid, damn idiot, and damn chocolate bar for being so small.   How did humans get any satisfaction out of something so insignificant?  Speaking of insignificant, here comes the woman.  I can hear her footsteps from here.  By how she's thudding, she's livid.  Good.

Bulma raised her hand to thud on her housemate's door, but before she could pound it, his voice called her inside.  Gosh, that was disconcerting.  "Look, Vegeta, it's going to be a while before the gravity room's fixed.  It'll probably be sometime tomorrow afternoon before it's workable.  Why don't you go be useful and blow yourself up into a nice crater?  I'd love to put in a swimming pool."  

Vegeta dismissively raked his eyes up and down her form, appreciating the view.  "Why don't you speed up the process and go help your father, then?  You claim you're such a genius, can't you keep up?"

Arms flailing in anger, Bulma stomped over to point her finger in the Prince's chest.  "Look, mister, I'll have you know that I am a genius, there's just one problem, though.  When you so kindly decided to blow the panel to bits, you fried the grounding wires and left the edges raw.  There's just room enough for one person to work in there."

"Oh, I see.  You're too fat to fit.  Got it, I understand."

"I am a beautiful woman, thank you very much!  Guys fall at my feet to worship the ground I walk on."

Vegeta raised one eyebrow.  "So, why are you still single, then?"

"Because I can be!"  Sputtering in anger and frustration, Bulma poked her finger harder into the Saiyan's chest while leaning in to shriek in his face.  "I don't have to settle because I am this beautiful and talented!"

Chuckling, Vegeta locked eyes with the enraged female.  "You know, you don't have to be so obvious in making a pass at me."

"And how large is your ego today?"

Taking the hand she was poking him with, Vegeta yanked Bulma down on top of him, her shock evident.  Before she could think enough to struggle, he snaked his free hand around the back of her head, and pulled her down for a kiss.  Stunned, Bulma stiffened and tried to pull away, her strongest struggles ineffectual against the firm Saiyan's grip.  "Open for me," Vegeta murmured against her tightly drawn lips, the vibration causing her to gasp, and open her mouth to the invading Prince's tongue.  She moaned as his hands wound in her hair, drawing her further into his passion-filled world.  

What was that taste?  Beer?  Suddenly pulling away, Bulma broke the kiss and looked over to the empty beer bottle on the dresser.  "You're drunk!"  Shaking her head in disbelief, she muttered to herself.  "You're drunk."

Vegeta released her, and as she shot away, he laughed.  "Hardly, woman.  But, then again, maybe I need to be to actually kiss you."  

"You disgusting, perverted, filth of a monkey!  Ugh!"  Bulma slammed her feet on the floor, stood, and angrily stomped out of his room, slamming the door on her way out.  Once in the relative safety of her own room, she railed against the Prince.  "How could he be so…ugh!"  _Come on girl, you're angry because you liked it._  "No I didn't!"  _Yes, you did.  That passion flowing off him, that's what gets you off, girl._  An odd, electronic beat flowed in, starting Bulma's voice into song. 

"You make it hard to breathe, it's as if I'm suffocating."  Leaning with her back against the door, she envisioned Vegeta lying on her bed, as cocky as he was in his own room.  Walking forward, she continued on.  "And when you're next to me, I can feel your heartbeat through my skin."  Sitting down on the edge of her plush bed, a tear dotted her aqua shirt.  "It makes me sad to think that this could all be for nothing."

Crash.  The beer bottle shattered in the Prince's hand, the glass etching faint cuts into his palm.  Damn his stupidity.  He hadn't meant to shove her away, just kick in that passion he craved.  The music floated through the air vents, and flooded his room with its off beats.  Soon, he couldn't help but sing, either.  "I wish there was a way, for you to see inside of me.  I've never felt this way, about anyone, or anything."

The music built up to a loud, heavy pitch and both Bulma and Vegeta exploded up from their beds and yelled.  "Tell me!"

Vegeta was the first through his door, striding intently toward Bulma's room.  "What do I have to do?" 

"To make you happy?"  She was now through her door, pushing her legs in a brisk pace to Vegeta's room.  "What do I have to do?"

"To make you understand?"  Simultaneously, they saw each other.   "What do I have to do?"

Anger and passion coursing through their veins, they cried out in tandem.  "To make you want me?  And if I can't make you want me?"

Dropping her voice and her eyes, Bulma continued the song.  "What do I have to do?"     

"Goku!  After all we went through just two nights ago, you're up and leaving again?"  Chi-Chi's hands were on the kitchen counter, bracing herself as the heated argument continued.  After lunch, Goku had announced that Gohan, Piccolo, and himself were going to go on a three-day training mission.  Chi-Chi had retorted that nothing had changed from previously, and that Goku was little more than a liar.  He disputed that, and here they are now.  

"I am not just 'up and leaving again!'  Damn it, when will you understand that I don't have a choice?"

"Don't have a choice?  Really?  Someone holding a gun to your head and saying 'Son Goku, if you don't train, I will shoot you?'  Because I don't see one."  

Goku stood from the dinner table, walked over to his wife, and grabbed her, facing her towards him at arm's length.  "The androids aren't holding the gun to my head, they're holding it to everyone else's.  The boy from the future said that everyone would die.  Do you want your son to die?  Is that it, Chi-Chi?  Tired of being a housewife?"

Breaking free of his grasp, Chi-Chi grabbed the front of Goku's gi and pulled him down to her eye level.  "Are you accusing me of trying to kill my own son?" she said, icily.  

"No.  I'm saying that you're not seeing the big picture."  Softening his tone, Goku stroked the side of his wife's face with the back of his hand.  "I have to protect you, and Gohan.  But Gohan must also be able to protect himself.  Would you rather have the rest of these three years, or lose this time, but gain the rest of our lives?"

"How do I know that the truth?  How do I know…"  The music cut in and interrupted Chi-Chi's second wind.  Goku released her, and started to sing.

"I know exactly what you're thinking, and I swear this time I will not let you down."  Chi-Chi opened her mouth to protest, but a finger silenced her.  "I'm not as selfish as I used to be, that was a part of me that never made me proud."  A bit of fury entered his voice and face as he continued.  "About right now, I would try anything, anything at all to keep you satisfied."  His voice softened again, and he took Chi-Chi into his arms.  "God, I hope you see, what losing you would do to me.  All I want is one more chance, so tell me…"

"What do I have to do, to make you happy?"  Eyes both angry and pleading, Bulma forcefully sung at Vegeta.

"What do I have to do, to make you understand?"  

"What do I have to do, to make you want me?"  

Simultaneously igniting, a rising cry erupted from both pairs of vocal cords.  "And if I can't make you want me, just tell me, tell me!  What do I have to do, to make you happy?  What do I have to do, to make you understand?  What do I have to, to make you love me, and if I can't make you love me, just tell me, what do I have to do?"   As if polar opposites of a magnet had suddenly come into proximity, so did the lips of Bulma and Vegeta, both crushing the other, in an outburst of fervor and rage.

After Goku left, Chi-Chi finished the song, alone once again.  "To forget about you?"  Almost as if he had heard her, he suddenly transported back in, and grabbed her in a loving kiss before leaving again.  A smile on her face, Chi-Chi dressed for bed as the music died and the screen went opaque.  

AN2:

SSJTom:  You'll be in the interlude between Act 2 and Act 3.  Thanks for your support!


	12. Obsession

AN:  I really wish I could make this a lemon soon.  However, I still blush more than Mirai Trunks if he accidentally saw one of Roshi's magazines.  So, it may get up to R, but no NC-17.  Can't pull that off.  Obsession is owned by Animotion. 

"Gravity resetting in 5…4…3…2…1.  Gravity normal."  Toweling off his face, Vegeta smiled to himself.  That had been an excellent workout, and while he had not yet achieved Super Saiyan, he had managed to break through another plateau.  It was funny how training worked; most people thought of it as a continuous progression upward.   And, possibly, if you averaged it out, it would be.  However, as Vegeta knew all too well, there was nothing gradual about a fighter's progression.

Much like his life, his achievement in training came in fits and starts, always frustrating, always eluding.  A fighter can spend years on a plateau, never to improve more than little timing progressions, only to one day break through and start a rapid ascension to the next plateau.  It was infuriating, training for extended periods of time with no gain, but the jumps made it worthwhile.  

There was no reason for him to continue training any more this day, though.  While being a bit tired helped keep the muscles relaxed, he was tired to the point where his technique was becoming sloppy.  Humans have this odd saying, Vegeta thought to himself, "practice makes perfect."  And this saying reinforced his low opinion of the human race, as he knew that was inaccurate.  Only perfect practice made perfect technique; practicing with poor form created bad muscle memory habits.  So, it was time to grab some food, take a shower, and crash out for the night.  

Up in her bedroom, Bulma heard the whirring of the gravity chamber end, and sighed to herself.  How she wished that Vegeta could be properly trained to use the microwave.  Not that he wasn't intelligent enough, but the scorched popcorn attested to the fact that he had no concept of proper cooking times.  She had tried again to teach the Prince how to use the microwave, but he refused and made a general nuisance of himself.  Possibly, if Bulma possessed a shred of patience, she would try to instruct him once again, but her impatience outweighed her desire to not cook.  So, down the stairs she descended, calling out to Vegeta regarding the contents of his dinner.  

"As long as a majority was once alive, Woman, I will be satisfied!"  

Bulma wrinkled up her nose and retched at the thought.  Watching Saiyans eat meat was such a revolting act to Bulma that she teetered on the edge of vegetarianism.  Of course, watching them eat, period, made most people want to swear off food.  However, Bulma actually enjoyed watching Vegeta eat on occasion, as he had managed to figure out a way to scowl while eating.  It was both cute and funny, seeing this scowling chipmunk Prince cram food into his already stuffed cheeks.  

Due to the fact that Bulma was making a more complex dish, Vegeta had decided to actually shower first, after the requisite complaints about food not being on the table already.  While in the shower, his thoughts coasted towards the woman currently cooking for him.  An inaudible growl rumbled through his larynx, his thoughts of her were growing more frequent, and more insistent.  

It was her passion, he knew.  It matched and ignited his own.  While idly wishing he still possessed his tail to assist in washing his back, he realized how much of his thought patterns were occupied by Bulma as of late.  It was simultaneously frustrating and intoxicating, as his imagination ran wild.  Letting the water chase the soapsuds off his skin, Vegeta finally came up with the correct word for his feelings: obsession.  

Men thought they were so suave, so unreadable.  Hardly, Bulma thought.  Well, Vegeta was generally very unreadable.  However, it was akin to a blinking neon sign that he was infatuated at least with her.  Heated glances, eyes lingering a bit too long, standing a bit closer than necessary: she knew.  Question was, what did she want to do about it?  Leaning against the counter, a flush of heat swept through her body as she thought about what she _wanted_ to do about it.  She _wanted_ to tilt her head back in acceptance, and allow Vegeta to do as he pleased to her.  But, what you want and what is best for you rarely coincide, so she suppressed that thought as best she could.  

Would Vegeta, however?  While the sauce came to a slow boil, Bulma hopped up on the counter, waiting.  She had seen some of the smoldering looks he gave her, and that caused her to doubt his resolve.  After all, when had the Prince of all Saiyans ever been denied something he desired?  He was obsessed, that was for sure.  And, for the record, so was she.  A constant, electronic beat began its steady pulse as she sat, beginning to sing.

"You are an obsession, I cannot sleep, I am a possession, unopened at your feet.  There is no balance, no equality."

Vegeta rinsed out the last of the shampoo from his hair as the music reached him in the shower, coercing him into song.  "Be still, I will not accept defeat.  I will have you, yes I will have you.  I will find a way, and I will have you."  Reaching up, he ran his fingers through his hair, shaking out the last of the lather.  "Like a butterfly, a wild butterfly, I will collect you, and capture you."

Bulma took the pot off the stove as Vegeta pressed the faucet knob off.  At the same time, they sang.  "You are an obsession, you're my obsession.  Who do you want me to be, to make you sleep with me?  You are an obsession, you're my obsession.  Who do you want me to be, to make you sleep with me?"

Bulma ladled the creamy sauce onto the thick meat platter, singing as she did so.  "I feed you, and drink you by day and by night."

Vegeta grabbed a towel off the metal rack, and began whisking the water off his damp body.  "I need you, I need you by sun and candlelight.  You protest, you want to leave.  Stay, there's no alternative."

"Your face appears again, I see the beauty there.  But I see danger, stranger beware, of circumstance in your dreams.  Your obsession is not what it seems."

"You are an obsession, you're my obsession."  Once more, both voices rang out as both felt a pull to hurry their mundane tasks.  "Who do you want me to be, to make you sleep with me?  You are an obsession, you're my obsession.  Who do you want me to be, to make you sleep with me?"

Frustrated, Vegeta flared his ki to dry himself off fully, and shoved one leg into his pantsuit.  "My fantasy has turned to madness, and all my goodness has turned to badness.  I need to possess you has consumed my soul."  Dressed, he wrenched the door open forcefully, calling out.  "My life is trembling, I have no control!"

"I will have you, yes I will have you."  Finding she could no longer concentrate, Bulma gripped the side of the table, warmth inundating her limbs.  "I will find a way, and I will have you.  Like a butterfly, a wild butterfly, I will collect you, and capture you!"

Vegeta rapidly descended the stairs as Bulma rounded the corner to take the same stairs.  "You are an obsession!  You're my obsession!  Who do you want me to be, to make you sleep with me?"  They met halfway down the stairs, both singing out.  "You are an obsession!  You're my obsession!  Who do you want me to be, to make you sleep with me?"

Vegeta reached down, gripped under Bulma's shoulders, and pulled her up into his chest, crushing her with all the pent up passion he felt.  While locked together, Vegeta shifted his grip, and flew off to his room, where he laid Bulma on his bed, and the screen went black.

AN2:

SSJTom:  Thanks!  You always make me happy while reviewing, it's nice.

The True Earth Saiyajin: Gee, thanks.  You're making me blush. :)


	13. Relax

AN:  "Relax" is owned by Frankie Goes to Hollywood.  Gees, I don't even write kissing scenes well.  What possessed me to write a Vegeta/Bulma scene?  Idiocy, I swear.  I eliminated one line and a repeat chorus from the song, because I didn't find a good place for anyone to sing it.

A gentle breeze ruffled through Gohan's hair and leafed through the pages of his open book as he sat at the dinner table, waiting for the meal to be served.  Generally, Chi-Chi discouraged outside activities at the dinner table as they detracted from conversation, but she always permitted Gohan to study.  The two Saiyans had taken an unexpected lunch break, so Chi-Chi was working on short notice as the heat welled up in the kitchen.  

Gohan pursed his lips, engrossed in a passage in the worn book, and then looked up at his dad, who was leaning back in his chair salivating.  "Hey dad?"

"Yes, Gohan?"

Gohan looked down at his volume again for confirmation, then met his father's eyes once more.  "Well, ki is energy, right?"

"Yes," Goku nodded in agreement.

"And light is the purest form of energy?"

"Uhh…sure?"  Goku raised an eyebrow, curious as to the point of this conversation.

"And a laser beam is concentrated light converted into destructive power?"

"Whatever you say, son."

Gohan scrunched his eyebrows together in an attempt to properly phrase his next question.  "So, since we're using ki, which is energy, which is light, are we essentially shooting large laser beams in our ki attacks?"

Goku glanced over at his wife, who hadn't been paying attention to the conversation.  Finding no help there, Goku smiled at his son.  "Whatever you say, Gohan."  Chuckling a bit, Goku figured that Gohan would know much better than he would about such matters, so agreeing was the best course of action.  Disagreeing would bring about the inevitable "why?" so nodding in the affirmative was the only course of action for the older Saiyan.

Humming, Chi-Chi set out three worn white soup bowls, one at each of the place settings.  Goku could hear the soft slosh of liquid as his wife carried the soup pot to the table, setting it down on a frayed blue potholder.  Inhaling deeply, Goku's stomach rumbled as the sharp smell of the spicy liquid caused him to salivate further.  Chi-Chi set herself down, and the feast began.

__________________

Tenderness and caring were words that only existed in Vegeta's vocabulary as things to avoid at all costs, and that certainly showed with Bulma now.  A hasty rip of the shirt, a careless fling of undergarments, no, the Prince of all Saiyans would never be accused of tenderness.  This wasn't a tender moment of making love, of connecting two wayward souls destined to be together for all eternity.  No, this was lust, passion, craving, obsession and all its hormonal cousins crashing together for a moment in a meeting of lips and centers.

Remarkably, Bulma probably would have stopped this if it had been tender and loving.  That would have given her time to think, to examine what was going on.  But with the strong, muscular body pressing her into the mattress, and his scent filling her nose, she barely could manage to remember her own name.  Even that was lost on occasion as Vegeta's lips covered hers in a bruising manner, claiming her tongue as his own.  He was stealing her breath, her thoughts, her tenuous hold on sanity itself with his actions.

Her breath whispered softly against his ear in a low moan, and Vegeta growled, his chest rumbling with the action.  Weaving his tapered fingers through Bulma's silky hair, he gripped a handful and pulled, causing her to gasp and expose her neck.  Dragging his lips and teeth across the pulsing jugular beneath, he caused another delicious moan to escape from her parted ruby lips.  No.  This wasn't about making love at all.

________________

"Bye, mom!"  Gohan and Goku were to meet Piccolo for an afternoon of sparring, and Gohan couldn't bear to be late for Piccolo.  Throwing wide the door, Gohan jumped and took off, waving behind him.  Goku smiled at Chi-Chi, and then took off after his son, catching up to the speeding youngster.  

"So, son, you think we shoot laser beams?"

"Yeah."

"That's interesting," Goku shrugged.  

"Hey!  There's Piccolo!"  Putting on an extra burst of speed, Gohan rushed forward to greet his teacher.  Goku shook his head amusedly at his son, and burst forward as well, his black belt flapping in the wind.  Touching down on a cliff, Goku walked up to the pair, to hear Gohan eagerly discussing his laser beam theory with his mentor, who was either genuinely interested or a darn good actor.  

A few minutes later, all three were in the air, fending off each other's attacks with hands moving too fast to be seen.  Goku and Piccolo caught each other's eye, and both went after Gohan, who now had to work twice as hard to keep up with the barrage of kicks and punches from his dad and mentor.  

Punch.  "Gohan…"  Kick.  "Can…"  Kick.  "You…"  Punch.  "Beat…"  Roundhouse.  "Both?"  

As Gohan dodged an attack from his father, Piccolo phased in behind the young boy, and sent him sailing into the ground far below.  Landing with a grunt, Gohan then realized that today was going to be the day they tried him by fire.  And he loved it.

______________

It certainly wasn't a hard rhythm by any means.  Nor was it a soft, give and take.  After their frenetic beginning, Vegeta had slowed down the pace in order to prolong and draw out the exchange.  He could feel Bulma tensing up, as if she was fighting this off, stalling or denying herself the pleasure, which he did not know.

___________

Gohan rocketed up from the soft snow, a trail of blue following his ascent.  Launching himself at Piccolo with renewed frenzy, Gohan was relentless in his head-hunting pursuit.  Goku, seeing the opportunity, came from behind to smash into Gohan, but the younger boy phased away, causing Goku to barely miss the surprised Namek.  Piccolo turned, amused as a single beat carried over the hills.  "Oh oh.  Weeeeellll now," he sang, taunting Gohan.

With a tearing scream, Gohan shot forward once more to continue the battle.

____________

Vegeta looked down at Bulma, whose eyes were melded shut and lips swollen.  Her face was taut with restraint, and she was biting her bottom lip, trying to hold something back.  The beating drum swooped in, and Vegeta leaned down to Bulma's ear and sang with it.  "Relax, don't do it, when you want to go to it.  Relax, don't do it, when you want to come."  He sped up the pace a bit, urging her on.  "Relax, don't do it…when you want to come.  When you want to come."

Bulma's eyes flew open as Vegeta shifted his stroke to brush more insistently against her most sensitive spot.  Seeing her still holding back, he repeated himself, still singing.  "Relax, don't do it, when you want to go to it.  Relax, don't do it…when you want to come.  Come."

"Oh, oh, oh!"

____________

Angry, Gohan turned and fired a yellow ki blast at his father, but his anger made him miss by a good deal.  Goku darted off to the side, and looked critically at Gohan, and began to sing.  "But shoot it in the right direction.  Make making it your intention."

Gohan nodded, and took off after Goku.  After a quick exchange, Gohan managed to connect solidly, sending the larger man off into the cliff face.  Emboldened, he charged recklessly at Piccolo, who quickly picked him apart and swatted him away.  "Live those dreams," he mocked.  

After extricating himself from the rock, Goku sprang forward, rejoining the battle.  Gohan thought for a bit and aimed a punch at his father's nose.  Goku prepared to block, hunching down.  At the last moment, Gohan disappeared and reappeared alongside Piccolo, throwing the punch at him.  He was not fooled, however, and easily dodged.  "Scheme those schemes," he teased.

Frustrated, Gohan sent two ki blasts rocketing out, one aimed at Goku and one pointed toward Piccolo.  Both adults slipped to the side, and Goku called out in song, "you've gotta hit me!"

"Hit me!" Piccolo joined in.

"Hit me!"

"Hit me!"

"Hit me with those laser beams!"

_________________

"I'm coming!  I'm coming, yeah!"

_________________

Goku, sensing his son's mounting frustration, powered down and went to his son's side.  "Relax."  Gohan continued to fume, and Goku could see him contemplating quitting for a brief moment.  "Don't do it."  The powerful adult Saiyan floated upward again, building his ki for another fight.  As Gohan built his own ki back up, Goku called down, "relax."

_________________

On the crest of the first explosion of pleasure, Vegeta had brought Bulma back up, ready for another.  Her wild abandon was forgotten, and she was holding back again.  As he growled, Vegeta suddenly realized that she was waiting for him.  He slowed down, causing the blue-haired beauty beneath him to whimper, and he leaned in again to sing in her ear.  "Relax, don't do it, when you want to come."  Faster then.  "When you want to come."  Slamming now.  "When you want to come."  

Bulma's thin, reedy cry signaled her release, as both yelled out, "Come!"

________________

The fight over, Goku and Gohan made their way home.  Goku was extremely proud of his son, who had come a long way that day.  Gohan, on the other hand, was still upset that he could not defeat either Piccolo or his dad.  Feeling useless and weak, his head drooped in disappointment.  Goku looked over, and sang the last words on the matter.  "Relax."  Smiling, Gohan nodded as the screen faded out and they happily made their way home for dinner.

AN2:  Next scene…Interlude 2!

SSJTom:  Thank you so much for reviewing!  It's nice that this thing isn't being completely ignored. :)  Do you mind if I give you blond, spiky hair? ;)


	14. Wonder Boy (Interlude 2)

AN: It's interlude two, which means we get special rules again. In interludes, I have license to make characters OOC, and do whatever I feel like without ramifications to the story. "Wonder Boy" is owned by Tenacious D. And, since it's an interlude, I'm chopping up the song. Whee!  
  
Pushing back from her office desk, Bulma Briefs stretched and popped her neck to relieve the built-up tension. Someday, she would actually worry about ergonomics, she mused, but why bother making her desk properly aligned when she spent so much time hunched over machines anyway? Slipping her feet back into her heeled shoes, she stood and began shutting down the office. Lights, computer, fax machine, shredder, all needed to be turned off or placed on standby until her return.  
  
As she exited her corner office, she poked her head into the adjoining office where her secretary worked. "Hey, goodnight."  
  
She smiled in return, knowingly teasing; "it's morning, Ms. Briefs." She then waved to her odd boss before returning to entering time records into the database. Bulma employed two secretaries under her. One took the morning shift, one the night. Bulma's hours were so erratic that it was easier to constantly employ two secretaries than to coordinate her schedule with anyone else. And besides, the secretaries doubled as data entry people when they weren't actively performing tasks for Bulma, so the cost was justified.  
  
Bulma strode down the long hallway towards the elevator that would carry her to the underground parking garage. Normally, Bulma hated those things, as they tended to be cramped, but this most recent expansion of Capsule Corporation had to be put up in such a hurry that they didn't have time to secure proper permits for an aboveground lot. Cities were so crowded in Japan that obtaining a permit for an aboveground lot took upwards of a year.  
  
As the elevator slid open, Bulma had to smile at the slightly puzzled look on one of her employee's face. He was attempting to read a Japanese newspaper, and by his frown lines, evidently not doing too well. "Tom? Need a little help?" He flushed, a bit embarrassed at being seen in such a poor light as Bulma punched the number to the parking garage.  
  
An American, Tom certainly stuck out in the conforming, similar culture of Japan. Between the fact that he had blond hair and was taller than the average Japanese, he got his fair share of attention. But, it wasn't for his cultural background that the blue-haired genius had hired him. No, it was because one day, out of the blue, Tom had created a way to shrink Capsules to three-fourths their current size. Upon hearing this, Bulma had hastily made him an offer, and had him moved over within the week.  
  
Expatriates tended to need a period of readjusting before being able to settle down and have much productivity, so Bulma had taken the younger man under her wing and helped him to adjust. Consequently, the two had become relatively good friends. Of course, there were the standard barriers. "I just don't see why, for all the productivity and advances here, you remain with this writing system that needs a new character for each word! How malevolent is that," Tom sighed. He could speak Japanese relatively well, aside from idioms, but his reading, well, let's just say that due to a misread, he ended up with a pile of manure being shrunk down to capsule form. That capsule had then gone on to be shown off to the stockholders. Needless to say, everyone was glad to have a short meeting.  
  
"Hey, you want to go to, well, breakfast?" Bulma asked.  
  
"Sure, but only if you order for me. No more corn surprises, please?" Tom laughed.  
  
As the two stepped out into the sunshine from the dim parking garage, Tom quirked up a side of his mouth. "Bulma," he drew out.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"What's with those weird flying guys I see around you? New invention to have people fly?"  
  
Bulma flushed and ducked her head. Oooh, that Vegeta. It was probably him that Tom had spotted, while the Prince of all Saiyans was in another demanding mood. "Uhhh, well…"  
  
"And they all have such odd hair. Is it in the spikes where you keep the device?"  
  
Laughing, Bulma pictured Vegeta with a blinking box situated in the middle of his hair. Oh yeah, he'd love that. "No, no. I guess I should explain."  
  
Tom frowned, confused. "Yes, please do."  
  
"Well, when I was a teenager," Bulma reminisced, "I went on an adventure and met a young boy, Goku. He grew up and is now one of the flying people you've seen. The one in orange and a perpetual grin."  
  
Tom nodded. "The tall one?"  
  
"Yeah." An odd guitar swayed its notes in the background, leading in. "I remember…" Bulma trailed, before singing. "High above the mucky-muck, castle made of clouds, there sits Wonderboy, sitting oh so proudly." She wistfully smiled. "Not much to say, when you're high above the mucky- muck."  
  
"So, he had a cloud," Tom broke in. Bulma nodded. "That he could sit on?"  
  
She nodded again, and continued her song. "Wonder boy, what is the secret of your power?" Glancing over at her dumbfounded companion, she chuckled before pausing. "Now it's time for me to tell you about Young Nastyman, archrival and nemesis of Wonderboy, with powers comparable to Wonderboy's." Upon seeing Tom's mouth open, she continued. "What powers you ask? I dunno, how about the power of flight? That do anything for you?"  
  
Tom thought for a moment. Which one of the spiky-hair people could be Young Nastyman? Oh. That one. The one who always looked pissed. I think Bulma has a thing for him. I'll have to needle her on that one.  
  
Bulma smirked, her silly side getting the best of her. "How about the power to kill a yak from two hundred yards away?"  
  
Tom, with a knowing smile, cut in again. "How about the power," he paused, eyes dancing, "to move you?" Bulma blushed.  
  
A streak of blue touched down, and a short bald man waved. "Hey, Bulma!"  
  
"Krillin! So good to see you! I was just explaining Goku and Vegeta's history."  
  
Hearing the music, Krillin nodded in comprehension. "Well, Wonderboy and Young Nasty Man joined forces; and formed a band the likes of which had never been seen. That's right, me!" Krillin stuck his chest out proudly. "And Vegeta!"  
  
"That's me!" Everyone turned to see the Saiyan Prince scowling behind them.  
  
"We're…the fiiiiiiiiiighters Z!" Whirling back around, a large grin shone down from none other than Son Goku. "Come fly with me, fly!"  
  
Bulma shook her head. "Wonderboy, what is the secret of your power? Wonderboy, won't you take me far away from the mucky-muck now?"  
  
The music ended, and everyone relaxed. Well, aside from Goku. "Sure, Bulma!" he chirped. Gripping her about the waist, he suddenly shot into the sky, thinking this is what she meant.  
  
"Kakkarot! Bring back my food-preparer now!" Vegeta took off after them.  
  
Shaking his head, Krillin glanced at Tom. We'd better get to the restaurant before those two decide to join us. They'll eat up the whole place," he sighed.  
  
And as shouts echoed throughout downtown and birds' ears, the screen faded black once again.  
  
  
  
AN2:  
  
Od-BTU Power Goddess: Oh, if you can come up with a good song for #17 and #18 to sing, I will be eternally grateful. I can't think of any!  
  
Drucilla: Glad to know I'm not the only 80's music freak. ;)  
  
SSJTom: Hope you like what I did with you. Don't kill me, please!  
  
Knightwing: Thanks. That lime was *so* hard for me to write. Of course, now we have to deal with a cocky Vegeta. (Vegeta + Bulma + Yamucha+ "Rebel Yell" is the next scene. Pete help me from above.) Oh, and yes, it's fine that you laughed at "Persistence of Memory." I stuck a few things in there as a bit of oddness. "They found that food particularly pleased their god…"  
  
Up next: Vegeta as Billy Idol? 


	15. Rebel Yell

AN: "Rebel Yell" is owned by Billy Idol. I like Yamucha, but the reality is that he was certainly not happy over the Vegeta/Bulma deal, as evidenced when the fighters met right before the Android's arrival. Chapter 15, and I still haven't used the work "smirk" for Vegeta. Someone call Guinness. So, away we go!  
  
  
  
Bracing himself, the former desert bandit roughly pulled against the comb that was firmly embedded into his dark hair. Trying to comb out the knots that had weaved their way into his hair due to flying, Yamucha mused that Krillin and Tien had the right ideas. No hair meant no knots. No knots meant no more fifteen minute sessions that inevitably ended with Puar snipping out a large mass of snarled hair. At this rate, he just might go bald anyway.  
  
But, it didn't matter to Yamucha, because he had to look presentable to go see Bulma. Maybe it was just the old feelings resurfacing, or a bout of loneliness, but Yamucha wanted to impress Bulma. A dash of cologne, a note for the grocery shopping Puar, and he was off. In a car this time. Yamucha may not have been a scholar, but even he wasn't quite dumb enough to just go flying and create a whole new set of knots in his hair. Especially when Bulma's favorite activity in the past was to run her fingers through the dark strands.  
  
____________________  
  
"Vegeta! If you please keep your dirty shoes off my nice carpet for once, I might not feel compelled to see what rat poison does to your system!"  
  
After their "romantic encounter," the house dynamics changed in Capsule Corporation. Certainly not for the better, though. Bulma, in a state of regret and denial lashed out at Vegeta every time she even noticed his presence, while simultaneously going on a string of bad one-night dates. Vegeta, if possible, became even more cocky and arrogant, delivering a self- satisfied sardonic grin every time Bulma began a tirade.  
  
"You can fly, Vegeta, so why don't you float over my nice Persian rugs? But no, you have to be the Prince of All Dicks and stamp your smelly feet all over my rugs that are worth more than your ass!"  
  
Vegeta lifted an eyebrow and grinned. "Prince of All Dicks, eh? That what you want to call me tonight?"  
  
Stomping down the stairs, Bulma finished hooking her necklace around her slender neck as she fumed. "Oooh! You are infuriating! I'm having company over, so shoo!"  
  
Without responding, Vegeta strolled over to the mahogany dining room table and calmly sat in his "special chair." Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the female about to burst, so he did the natural thing: put his dirty boots up onto the polished table. "I am not leaving until I have been served, woman."  
  
"Serve yourself, jackass!"  
  
Gracefully sliding his legs under him, Vegeta stood, and strolled into the kitchen. He reached over to the drawer, grabbed out a ladle, and began pouring the simmering soup into a bowl.  
  
"Very well."  
  
"Vegeta! You know that is for company tonight! Put that down now!"  
  
Sneering, Vegeta set the ladle back into the red liquid as he paused. "And who is more important than the Prince of all Saiyans?"  
  
Bulma stamped past Vegeta's glaring form, and covered the metal pot with a tight-fitting lid. "Yamucha is coming over. Why don't you go train or something?"  
  
"I am being relegated to second-class behind that pitiful excuse for a warrior?"  
  
Bulma turned with a saccharine-sweet smile. "Yes, yes you are. Now, you can eat with us if you sit down, shut up, and make believe you're not there."  
  
A devilish smile turned up on Vegeta's normally scowling face. "All right, then. I believe I shall."  
  
I don't like this. He agreed way too easily. There must be something cooking. The doorbell shook Bulma out of her musing, and she skipped off to answer the door. After leading the former desert bandit inside, Bulma excused herself to finish preparing the meal in the kitchen. I may not be Chi-Chi, but I can bring a hungry man down!  
  
The stark white room left little for either Yamucha or Vegeta to keep them amused while waiting to eat. Not that Vegeta minded, he bored a hole with his gaze directly at the fidgeting Yamucha. Glancing around, Yamucha tried to look at the mahogany table, the twin brass candlesticks, anything aside from the vicious Prince across the table. Hearing the clanging and smelling the food at least allowed a moment's respite, but the fact that Vegeta was staring at him was taking its toll.  
  
Finally, he snapped. "What is it, Vegeta? What do you want?" he barked, patience thrown askew.  
  
"I hope you are not deluding yourself, weakling. She will not be returning to you."  
  
"And just what makes you think I'm trying to be more than her friend?" Yamucha questioned, wary of the Prince.  
  
"The obscene amount of fake scent you are wearing. Did you marinate in what you call 'cologne'?"  
  
"Like you're the expert on what Bulma likes," Yamucha replied, dryly. The wicked smile unnerved Yamucha. It was both knowing and predatory. Welcome to my chamber, said the spider to the fly.  
  
Chuckling, Vegeta leaned in close. "Oh, but I am," he said in a low voice.  
  
"Really." Yamucha rolled his eyes. "I didn't know Bulma liked having freeloaders now."  
  
A flash of light shot through Vegeta's dark eyes. "I know that Bulma loves being kneaded below her shoulder blades. I know that if she says 'faster,' going slower drives her wild." Vegeta leaned over the table, the candlelight accentuating the planes of his face. "And I know that her screams die out after two hours."  
  
A punkish drumbeat started in as Yamucha snorted in disbelief and stood to challenge the Prince. "Right. You're full of it, Vegeta."  
  
Vegeta's smile widened as he stood, allowing the music to grow louder. Pushing his chair back in carefully, Vegeta began a lazy circle around Yamucha, eyes challenging as he sang. "Last night a little dancer came dancing to my door." Yamucha tried to keep his eyes on the Prince, as Yamucha frowned in skepticism. No way that Bulma and Vegeta…no.  
  
"Last night a little angel came pumping 'cross my floor," Vegeta continued. Yamucha opened his mouth, but a glare from Vegeta silenced him. "She said 'Come on baby, I've got a license for love. And if it expires, pray help from above!"  
  
Now in front of the baseball player, Vegeta stared directly into Yamucha's eyes, making the baseball player suddenly very uncomfortable in his suit and tie. "In the midnight hour, she cried 'more, more, more. With a rebel yell, she cried 'more, more, more'." With each time Vegeta sang "more," Yamucha began to get further infuriated. How dare this bastard say these things? "In the midnight hour, babe, 'more, more, more.' With a rebel yell, 'more, more, more.' 'More, more, more!"  
  
Yamucha growled, and challenged with, "She don't like slavery, she won't sit and beg."  
  
"But when I'm tired and lonely she sees me to bed."  
  
Yamucha thought of Bulma, and how Vegeta was soiling her name. "What set you free, and brought you to me, babe. What set you free, I need you here by me, because…"  
  
Vegeta broke in, taunting. "In the midnight hour, she cried 'more, more, more. With a rebel yell, 'more, more, more.' In the midnight hour, babe, 'more, more, more.' With a rebel yell, 'more, more, more'."  
  
In the kitchen, Bulma was oblivious to the posturing taking place a few yards away in the dining room. Having seen Yamucha's attire, she knew he was trying to impress her. And, it worked. She missed him. He was sweet, kind, and attentive when it mattered – basically everything Vegeta was not. Stirring the sauce, Bulma tasted the tart dessert. A bit more lemon peel. Perhaps she should chalk Vegeta up to enclosed spaces, and try to rekindle the flame with Yamucha. Smoothing out her long blue dress, Bulma began transferring the various foods into serving dishes.  
  
"He lives in his own heaven," Bulma sang lowly, referring to Yamucha. "Collects it to go from the 7-11. Well, he's out all night to collect a fare." Setting the food down onto the dinner table, Bulma noticed the tense looks flowing off Yamucha and the arrogant pose of Vegeta. Suddenly, she realized what must have been going on. She flushed, embarrassed and disappointed. She didn't want Yamucha to know. "Just as long as it doesn't mess up his hair."  
  
Yamucha noticed Bulma, and slowly came around to face her, disillusionment shining in his eyes. "I walked the ward with you, babe. A thousand miles, with you. I dried your tears of pain, babe. A million times for you." Rage began creeping into his voice, making it warble in pitch a bit. "I'd sell my soul for you, babe. For money to burn, with you." Fury now was evident as Yamucha's voice spiked in intensity and volume. "I'd give you all, and have nothing! Just to, just to, just to have you here by me, because!"  
  
"In the midnight hour, she cried 'more, more, more." Vegeta interrupted, forcefully dominating the trio. "With a rebel yell, she cried 'more, more, more.' In the midnight hour, babe, 'more, more, more.' With a rebel yell, she cried 'more, more, more."  
  
Yamucha, sick of looking at Bulma, sick of looking at Vegeta, sick of picturing them together, spun on his heel and walked out the front door, slamming it in his haste. Always one for the parting shot, Vegeta trailed Yamucha, and before Yamucha could fly away, sang, "Oh yeah little baby, she want more. More, more, more, more, more."  
  
Snarling and frustrated, a disk and swirl of blue appeared under Yamucha, and he flew off, leaving a triumphant Vegeta and a black screen.  
  
  
  
  
  
AN2: Sorry bout the delay…other things took priority, fic-wise. Next up? Good question. I'm not sure.  
  
Power Goddess: I'm looking for dark songs the Androids can sing, ya know, taunts of destruction and death. All that happy-go-lucky stuff. The first thing I thought of was Mr. Roboto too, don't worry. :)  
  
Romm: How do I find these songs? Long commutes. :)  
  
SSJTom: Eh, Canada's just the 51st state. No big deal. ;) I may end up using you again, we'll see.  
  
Kahlan Nightwing: You want to be in it? Sure. Next time I get a song idea where I need an outsider, I'll ask if you want to play. Be warned, that means I get full license with your character, though… *evil laugh*  
  
Sorry about the formatting problem, I reloaded it. Thanks for the tip off.  
  
And I am so killing Vegeta in Almonds for revenge. Oh, wait. That would destroy the sequel…and the romance…dang it. 


End file.
